Fire and Ice: Protection
by laloga
Summary: While on an undercover mission to Nar Shaddaa, Wolffe meets a Zeltron woman who offers much more than he anticipated. Wolffe/OC, with appearances by Plo Koon and the Wolfpack.
1. Chapter One

_A/N: This fic sprang from a group challenge that I took part in, _A Spa Story_, which can be found in my "favorite stories" tab on my author page. It's not necessary to read my contribution (ch. 4 – _Commander Wolffe Gets A Pedicure_) to understand this, but it might be neat to see this story's inception. _

_FYI, events are referenced from TCW, Season One's "Malevolence" story-arc, as well as the TCW graphic novel, _In Service Of the Republic. _(It's not required reading, but it's a great story in of itself – especially if you've ever wondered just how Wolffe got that cybernetic eye.) _

_As always, I don't own Star Wars or any recognizable characters, just my OCs. Also, I make no money off of writing or posting this, and have used the song lyrics at the intro of each chapter without permission._

_Fair warning: this fic is rated "M" with good reason. Although I took great pains to keep the narrative appropriate for this site, (as in, there's no explicit sex), much of the story _does_ take place in a "pleasure-house," and is centered around two, sexually-active, consenting adults, so...yeah. ;) My hope is that this is sexy, fun and romantic, though – of course – there's a little bit of angst mixed in. _

_Many thanks to _**LongLiveTheClones**_ for being my second pair of eyes! _

_Reviews and comments are _always_ welcome. Please read and enjoy! :)_

* * *

**Fire and Ice: Protection**

* * *

**Chapter One**

_I want to live with a cinnamon girl;_

_I could be happy, the rest of my life, _

_With a cinnamon girl._

~Neil Young, "Cinnamon Girl"

* * *

No matter what he faced, no matter what his men faced, no matter how high the odds were stacked against him, Wolffe had never lost control of himself. He had emotions, of course, had drives and urges like any other man, but he had never given way to them while on duty.

_Never_.

Until Nar Shaddaa; until House Ambrosia.

Until Ava.

* * *

As Ava watched him step through the atrium, casting his gaze around with all the wariness of one who has been hunted and one who has done the hunting, she thought she had never seen anyone she _wanted_ quite as much.

To be honest, the idea of it startled her more than the heady flare of arousal that was her nature. A Zeltron experienced attraction all the time; it was nothing notable. In Ava's line of work, particularly, she felt attraction from clients directed at her, but it did not go the other way around because she could shut out their emotions just as easily as she could broadcast her own, and because she generally did not feel attraction for them, just as she felt no pity or anger.

As a rule, she did not feel anything for the ones who paid for her body.

But this man...

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dusky skin and dark hair that was slightly mussed, though she saw his hand reach up as if to check that it was so, which she found curious. There was stubble all across his cheeks and chin, giving her the impression that he was normally clean-shaven. He moved like a predator: smooth, agile, strong.

Wary.

From her place behind the curtain that divided the reception desk from the staff quarters, Ava used all of her training and studied him, trying to place the reason for her attraction. She thought he was a few years her senior, perhaps in his mid-twenties, but he seemed older in a way she couldn't quite articulate. He was dressed simply: tunic, trousers, boots, gloves. Every article was well-made, but nondescript, and though they fitted his body, she thought they were not his normal clothing.

His body was muscular. Even through the clothing, she could tell that this was no errant nobleman out for a pleasure-spree in the Undercity of Nar Shaddaa. Coupled with the way he moved and the watchful set of his eyes, she decided that he was, like her, here with a very specific purpose.

Ava decided that she wanted to know what it was.

He approached the desk, where Iolite was poised to greet him. "Hello," the Rutian Twi'lek chirped, straightening her spine and giving the potential client an alluring smile. "Welcome to House Ambrosia: where anything could happen! How may I serve you today, sir?"

The man regarded the teal-skinned female for a moment, giving Ava the sense that he was thinking over his response, but she missed what he said because she was too busy staring at his eyes.

Correction: his eye.

One was an unremarkable light brown, a purely Human color in which she had little interest. These were an ingot a dozen and she'd seen her fair share.

No, it was the other, his right eye, that drew her gaze and made her breath catch.

It was cybernetic, silver-white, gleaming with intelligence even through its mechanical nature. It was one like she'd never seen; Ava wondered what it would be to have such an eye look upon her and felt her attraction lift another notch. A jagged, nasty-looking scar rested above and below the eye, leaving a myriad of questions about what had caused him to lose it, and she wondered again what sort of a man he was to have come _here_, of all the places in the galaxy.

Ava didn't believe in much, especially destiny, but sometimes she wondered...

But he was speaking, and she shook her head, leaning away from the curtain so that she would not be seen but so she could still listen.

"No, none of those..._services_ will be required," he was saying, an edge of annoyance discernible even through an accent that she was unable to place.

"Certainly, sir," Iolite tittered and Ava rolled her eyes, though she could hardly blame the Twi'lek for her saccharine nature; everyone who worked in a place like this found a mannerism that suited them, and Iolite knew as well as Ava did that the clients who came here generally did not care for intelligence in their playthings.

There was the sound of tapping on keys as Iolite pulled up the master schedule, then a pause before she spoke again. "Let's see...Sylphy and Khaz are both free for a namana-oil massage, but not for another two hours. Would you care to wait?"

It was a ruse, of course. Rarely were all of the workers tied up; this was simply a method of keeping clients in the building longer, thus ensuring that they would spend more money. A patron well versed in places like House Ambrosia would know this, and ask who else was free. The fact that this man did not meant that he was unused to situations like these. He also, she noted, did not inquire about the genders or species available to service him, which also indicated inexperience with pleasure-houses.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Sylphy and Khaz were both female and Humanoid, but she idly wondered how he'd react to a male, or perhaps a Sullustan. Or both.

Another pause, during which Ava heard him sigh as if in irritation, then he spoke. "Look, I just need-"

He broke off with a noise of frustration, and she thought, _you're not very good at this, are you, Silver? _

When he spoke again, his tone was more agreeable, if also a bit forced. "That will do, but I'd rather not spend the interim out...here. Is there another treatment?"

_Me, _Ava thought, taking a breath to quiet the race of her heart. _Against a wall, on top of a table, up, down, backwards, sideways...however you like. _

"Certainly, sir," Iolite replied brightly. "We've a lovely spa, with a sauna, if you'd care for a soak or a steam. Loosens and relaxes the muscles, you know, and makes the girls' job easier."

Ava rolled her eyes again; she could practically _see _Io's wink at the none-so-subtle innuendo, and she wondered if he was susceptible to the Twi'lek's considerable charms. It was easier for her to gauge another's emotional reaction if she was close by, or at least looking at them; indeed, she caught a trace of irritation in the air but couldn't tell if it was his or her own.

"Sounds...great," he said, and she heard the rustle of fabric, as if he was withdrawing a credit-chip from his pocket. "How much for all of that?"

Iolite giggled. "Oh, sir! No payment until afterward! For now, you're our treasured guest. Our hostess will show you around. Melusiné?"

On cue, Ava stepped from behind the curtain to greet the client fully. Normally, she kept her eyes slightly downcast and her shoulders back in order to better display her breasts, which were – she'd long since come to understand – her best assets; this time, however, she tilted her chin and met the man's mismatched gaze.

Now they were only a few arm lengths apart, and she realized that her earlier assessment of her own attraction had been woefully inadequate. _Oh, kriffing hell, _she thought as she faced him and watched his gaze sweep across her body. _This one is going to get me in trouble._

"Melusiné?" Iolite's voice was tinged with annoyance at her hesitation, but Ava marked the faint smirk on the man's face before she dipped her body in a low, graceful kneel.

"I'm at your service, sir." Her own voice was honey-sweet, sculpted both by nature and by years of training to be as alluring as possible, though being a pink-skinned, purple-haired, buxom Zeltron didn't hurt, either. Oh yes, she was made for this kind of thing, so she'd been told many times.

Io indicated the Human, who stood a little too still, with his back a little too straight. Oddly enough, she felt nothing from him, initially. No attraction, no arousal...nothing. But she could tell that he wasn't uninterested; it was as if there was a tight rein on his feelings, which piqued her interest even further. Here was a man who exhibited a great deal of control.

A firm hand, one might say.

Despite her outward attempts at professionalism, she shivered.

He nodded to her, once, as Io spoke again. "Show our guest to the locker-room and the spa. His appointment is with Slyphy and Khaz, in the Amaranth Room, two hours from now."

It was a well-honed system. Once the client was gone, Io would call Sylphy and Khaz, so that they'd be waiting to service him however he desired when he appeared, hopefully after waiting just long enough so that he'd forget he didn't want _those _kinds of services. When they were finished, he'd be too exhilarated to worry about how much he'd spent.

As Ava indicated another curtained door to the side, she gave him a smile that he did not return. "This way, please, Mister...?"

"Dorin," he replied after a pause. "Kell Dorin."

The pause gave him away: a fake name, just like the one she used while she worked here. Far from unusual, but again, his hesitation indicated that he was not familiar with this kind of situation, which she found oddly endearing.

In any case, she humored him because it was expected. "Mr. Dorin, then," she said with a smile. "Welcome."

She led him through the marbled hallways, her bare feet making no sound in contrast to the steady clap of his boots. He was behind her, so she couldn't see him move – a pity – but she could hear his tread: so even he was practically marching.

_Military_, she thought with an inward nod. Of course. If not for his accent, she would have pegged him as CorSec; with the accent, though, it was possible he was from the Republic, but she had no way of knowing for certain.

Though, if he _was _Republic...she thought she had an inkling of why he was here; it was only a matter of time before her boss, Sinopé Scota,attracted the wrong kind of attention. In fact, there'd been rumors of Republic agents searching the Undercity for a few weeks now, though she'd yet to seen any come through House Ambrosia.

The males' locker-room was not far, just opposite the corridor that led to Sinopé's office and nurse's section. Ava entered the lock-code on the door and it slid open, revealing an empty room; business had been very slow, recently. "You'll find bathing packets along the wall when you enter," she said as he peered within the area as if expecting an ambush. "There are also ocular-scan lockers, where you can leave your belongings safely."

At this, he glanced back at her, blinking once. "Ocular-scan? Will that work with a cybernetic?"

"Oh, yes," she said, feeling her face heat from the full-force of his eyes on her. "It only needs one eye to work."

Kriff, he was a beautiful man; the planes of his face were all ferocity and fight, his cheekbones were sharp enough to cut her hand upon, and the silver of his eye reflected nothing back at her, which she liked. A lot.

"Please shower before you leave," she added as he peered back into the room. Thankfully, her voice was still calm, though the pulse of her desire had only elevated by being so near to him; she swore she could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. "You'll find robes and bathing shorts with the shower-packets as well. I'll be here when you're ready for the spa."

"Shower?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Isn't a spa already like...a bath?"

Was it odd to find a man incredibly sexy _and _adorable? If Ava hadn't been convinced he'd never been to a pleasure-house before, she was now.

"We pride ourselves on our cleanliness," she replied, smiling. "It's customary to bathe before partaking of any services, here. My employer insists on everything being clean enough to eat off of. Including the staff," she added with a wink.

He blushed. Force help her, the man blushed and averted his eyes as he stepped into the locker-room, though she caught the flare of his arousal before it was immediately snuffed, as if he'd pinched a candle-flame into nothing.

But Ava knew what was _real_, right now: he was and she was, and she wondered what it would take to make him blush again.

She resolved to find out.

* * *

When the door slid shut behind him, Commander Wolffe surveyed the locker-room with full-on, unconcealed disdain. There was no one else in this crinking place, and he had the distinct feeling that his two-hour long wait until the massage was a ruse to get him to spend more creds. General Plo had warned him of such deceptive tricks in a place like this, but he'd been prepared for more...overt ones, he had to admit.

Anyway, the first part of his mission was complete: entry.

With the ninety-minute long massage he'd signed up for plus the two-hour wait, he had plenty of time to conduct his investigation, and something told him that it would be easy to hang around a bit longer if need be. Thanks to funding from Republic Intelligence, he also had what amounted to a bottomless purse and figured that such a thing entitled him to as long of a stay as he desired.

_As long as it takes, _he told himself as he began to strip down, folding his clothes neatly and placing them in a locker. _Until I suss out that Seppie scumbag. _

Republic Intel had gotten wind of a major Separatist informant – a Corellian woman named Sinopé Scota – who'd been pinpointed as owning a pleasure-house in this section of the Undercity; over the past weeks, dozens of Republic agents had combed the area, working undercover and trying to sniff out the Seppie...to no avail.

Sending a clone such as himself into this place was something of a last resort.

Of course, it wasn't supposed to be _him, _now was it?

It could have been an ARC trooper, but none had been free. Skirata's Nulls were all tied up as well, as was Captain Rex, whom Skywalker had initially put forth for this assignment. So, by process of elimination, Wolffe had been elected for this task.

_Fan-kriffing-tastic._

Sinker, Boost and the other members of the Wolfpack had given him no end of ribbing about the mission – _the Commander, in a pleasure-house? No doubt he'll scowl the whores into submission! – _but he'd considered no such thing. He was not here for his own personal enjoyment; this was a mission, like any other. Nothing more.

No matter that he'd never seen a Zeltron up close before, and thought she was-

Wolffe shook his head as he selected a shower-package from where the hostess – Melusiné – had indicated they'd be; a cursory examination showed him that it contained all manner of soaps and grooming necessities, which he figured he was supposed to employ. He only wished he could trim his hair again, but General Plo had suggested that a slightly more...unkempt look was necessary for this mission, so he'd let it grow out a little. But he didn't like it.

The shower-stall was one of many in a row once he passed by a series of sinks and toilets. Like the rest of this place, it seemed a little too fancy, but at least the water could be set to his preference: as hot as he could stand, enough to nearly scald. Enough to turn his skin pink as-

_Focus, _he told himself, ripping open the soap packet and beginning to scrub his arms and chest. _Mission. Separatist scum. Remember? _His forced discipline worked for a few minutes, long enough for him to clean his body, but his thoughts kept returning to the young Zeltron woman.

Melusiné, she'd been called. Shorter than him by a bit, full breasts, curving hips, a gorgeous smile, pale-violet eyes alight with intelligence; every part of her was right up his hyperlane.

No. The mission.

Separatists.

_Kriff_, it had been a long time since he'd touched a woman.

Part of the reason that Wolffe had survived as long as he had was by knowing when he was beaten; he decided that it would be easier to conduct his business here if he wasn't distracted by the desires of his body, so he spent a few more minutes than he'd originally planned beneath the hot, pulsing water.

She was a Zeltron; it was likely she could get some sense of his feelings, even if she wasn't outright influencing them, and she'd said she'd be waiting outside the door, so he tried not to think of her. But it was futile. The entire time he was taking himself in hand, his thoughts were of her smile and pink, flushing skin_._

* * *

There were a thousand tasks Ava could have done while he showered, but she ignored all of them and waited in the hallway outside of the locker-room. It wasn't unheard of to do so, and House Ambrosia was so quiet today she figured she wouldn't see anyone else at all. Besides, if he was military, as she thought he was, she doubted he'd take long.

As it turned out she was wrong, but it was for a very good reason.

In fact, she might have wondered if the delay was because he'd slipped and busted his skull if she hadn't caught the throb of his arousal. Pheromones were not quite like scents, though that was generally how she explained the concept to those who could not sense them; they were something that a Zeltron could exude at will, if he or she desired, but they were also something that one could detect, if they were being projected with enough force.

Right now, this man – _Silver_, as she kept thinking of him – was sending out what amounted to a full-on assault to her attuned senses. Welling desire, rising passion, the desperate _need _for release and the crumbling walls of control...there was a span of a few minutes where she was buffeted by those things and when he reached his climax, the force of the feeling was enough to make even her knees a little shaky.

Thankfully there was a bench in the hallway.

Because it would not do for her to be flustered when he reappeared, she took a seat and worked on gathering her calm even as she pushed away any influences of his feelings. _Take a breath, _she coached herself. _Calm down, for Force's sake. He's just a client, like any other. He's no one special._

A few deep breaths helped her regain her own composure, so she adjusted her form-fitting dress and smoothed out her hair. By the time the door opened and he stepped out, she was standing once more, looking – she knew – completely unaware that he'd just given his blaster a good, firm polish. To his credit, he met her eyes without a trace of hesitation, which she took as a sign of character.

Still, she couldn't quite help herself. "Was everything to your liking, Mr. Dorin?"

He nodded once. "It was."

Undeterred, Ava allowed a coy smile to cross her face; being flirted with was one of the reasons clients came here, after all. "The robe suits you," she added, giving him a once-over – eyes only, sadly. For now. "Do you require anything further before we continue?"

_Like my legs wrapped around your waist? _

"No, thank you."

Kriff, still no blush, though any disappointment she felt was mitigated by the way he filled out the robe so nicely. The white contrasted well with his dusky skin and caught the gleam of the silver in his cybernetic eye, though she did wonder if he'd chosen to wear the provided bathing shorts or not. His stance made her think he was a little uncomfortable in the plastifoam sandals that had been provided, but she preferred being barefoot, so she wasn't able to relate.

"This way," she said as she turned to lead him to the spa. The marbled hallway was empty and their steps made no sound against the floor. Force knows she usually didn't need help getting male attention, but Ava wasn't above putting a little extra sway in her hips right now.

After a few corridors, they reached the frosted glass door that led to the spa area; once she activated the door and they entered, she realized that no one else was here. Silver stepped in after her and the door closed.

It was a lovely sight, she had to admit. Sinopé spared no expense making House Ambrosia one of the nicer Undercity pleasure-houses in the district, and there were times, like right now, when it wasn't such a bad thing to work here. The décor was lush and vibrant, even when it was only a facsimile of something real. There were colorful holographic trees placed at intervals, giving the entire area a vivid glow, and the waters of the multiple pools were lit with individual colors themselves. Soft music played from hidden speakers, and the scrubbers in the air-filters ensured that no toxins from the Nar Shaddaa atmosphere reached this place while also adding a fresh, clean scent to the air.

She shot a glance at Silver; he appeared to be studying the area with the gaze of someone taking in as much information as he could, and she thought again he _must_ be from the Republic. The Seps had no reason to contact Sinopé in this way, after all, and Ava's true owner would know if another, third-party, like CorSec, had come looking for the Corellian woman. No, it made sense that he was Republic.

"There are hooks for the robe and a place for your sandals, there," she said, indicating the wall to their left. "The pools are color-coded: red is hot, blue is cool, purple is in-between. The sauna rooms are off to either side."

He nodded again, almost absently as he looked around, then he glanced back at her. "Will you return when it's time for the...treatment?"

"The massage?"

Again, the nod. Just one, like he only rarely doled out even the single, curt gesture.

Ava smiled at him again, but this time it was genuine. "I'll come back for you; there's a chime at the edge of each pool that will summon an attendant. Or," she paused, glancing around again to make sure the coast was clear. "I can...stay."

For one sweet second she thought he'd agree. He blinked once, then she watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed and shook his head. "No...thank you, er...Melusiné."

She'd expected as much.

Besides, any services she provided would most certainly _not_ be on his bill; though Ava was ostensibly employed as a hostess by Sinopé Scota, it was Jurma the Hutt who truly owned the young Zeltron, and it was the Hutt whose orders she ultimately had no choice but to follow.

For this job, Ava was purely an intel-collector; Jurma had heard about Sinopé's Separatist leanings, and so had managed to get Ava hired at House Ambrosia to spy on the Corellian. It wasn't a bad job at all – much the opposite, in fact – but the best part of it was that Ava was under no one's daily, direct supervision but her own, which meant that her body was _hers _to do with as she wished.

It had not always been so and she was under no illusions that it would remain this way, but for now, for this assignment, no one touched her unless she agreed to it.

And, truthfully, it had been far too long since she'd touched a man like Silver, if indeed she ever had.

"Another time, then, Mr. Dorin," she replied, offering another smile that was not returned. "Do you need anything else? A drink, perhaps?"

His mouth opened to object, but then he seemed to think better of it and exhaled, casting her a look that was only a little annoyed. "You don't have any ale, do you?"

An ale man. Nothing better in the galaxy. Ava rattled off the list of the types they carried – not a bad selection, really – but she saw at once that he had never heard of half of them, if that many. Strange, indeed, as military types were often worldly enough. When he didn't select one right away, she cleared her throat. "The house specialis my personal favorite," she offered. "It's dark and delicious, but not too strong."

He seemed like the kind of man who did not often imbibe, let alone in public, but if he was here on a mission, like she suspected, he'd want to keep a low cover and a clear head. Indeed, her instincts were dead-on. A look of relief crossed his face and he nodded again. "Sounds perfect. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Mr. Dorin," she replied, smiling at him again. Of course, he didn't return the look, but as she slipped out of the room, she thought, _maybe soon._

* * *

_Ava's thought about Wolffe having a "firm hand" comes from a comment by Threepio from the Season Four episode, "Mercy Mission," and makes me giggle far more than I'm sure the TCW writers ever intended. _

_(Speaking of inappropriate giggling...there's a lot of innuendo in this story. A lot.)_

_FYI, CorSec = Corellian Security. It comes up again. ;)_

_Thanks for reading! Don't forget to let me know what you think! _

_Next time...chivalry still exists. ;)_


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

_I want to love some more,_

_It'll never be the same._

_A broken heel like a heart,_

_I'll never walk again._

~Goldfrapp, "Ooh La La."

* * *

Once Melusiné left, Wolffe exhaled and looked around the spa. _Right_. _First things first. _

He'd been scanned upon his arrival at the pleasure-house, as weapons were not allowed, but they hadn't checked him for a subcutaneous comlink in his ear or a miniature scanner, both of which he'd been able to smuggle in on his person. The comlink wasn't to be used unless he needed to contact the general, but the scanner, located on a metal ring he wore on his right hand, was for right now. It was a handy little piece of tech that also contained an emergency transmitter signal which could be activated if the wearer found himself unable to use the comlink for any reason but needed to be located by his allies.

He had no clue how long it would take Melusiné to return with his ale, so he slipped out of his robe – he'd opted to wear the black shorts that had been included in the shower-package – and meandered around the room, pretending to take in the sights as he adjusted the scanner to search for any recording devices or transmitter stations. None in here, but he caught a flicker of something to the east, perhaps down one of the corridors they'd passed on the way to the locker-rooms.

_When the Zelly comes back, you could ask her to stay, _his hormones whispered as he moved through the glowing forms of the trees. _You could interrogate her...she seems more than willing. _

Wolffe was no expert on women, but Melusiné had not been exactly subtle in her interest, and to be honest, he was not above noticing such a thing, no matter that he had no plans to act on the heady attraction she elicited. But still. Sweet Force...her hips, her breasts, her hair. Her kriffing smile.

Arousal flared through his groin once more and he exhaled in annoyance. _Kriff!_ _I took care of that, with good reason._

Well, the room was secure, at any rate, which was a good thing, as he heard the door open within a few minutes. Melusiné made no sound as she entered; he only saw her once he moved back towards the center of the room, threading his way through the bubbling pools of water.

"One house special," she said, holding a tray with a single glass of amber fluid. "Oh...you don't want to get wet?"

Of course, he was still in his shorts and sandals, having not partaken of any of the pools, but her words put something else entirely in his mind, which was probably the point. Still, he was a commander. He was in control.

"I will in a minute," he said, stepping over to her. "I was waiting for you to get back."

Kriff, he'd meant to say, _I was waiting for you to get back – with my drink._

"Here I am." Her smile was not as broad this time but he thought it was more genuine, and he liked it.

A part of him, a deep, primal part that had no concern for regs or the even the _shabla _mission, savored the way her eyes slid across the entire length of his body, then found their way back to his face. She didn't flinch from the sight of his scar or his implant, which was a nice change from most of the women he'd encountered since the Battle of Khorm, where he'd gotten the scar and lost the eye.

Distracted as he was, Wolffe reached to lift the glass of ale at the same time she did; both of their hands bumped the tray, which caused the glass to fall and shatter around their feet, sprinkling their lower legs with the drink.

"Oh, _frag_," she said with a huff. "Clumsy me. Sorry about that"

"Don't be. It's my fault," he replied as he glanced at his feet, silently thankful for the sandals, though his boots would have been preferable. Well, his entire _kit_ would have been preferable, but it was impossible for an armored and armed man to blend in with civilians.

She gave him a curious look, then knelt down to retrieve the larger portions of the glass while he stepped out of the way, carefully. As she set the shards upon the tray, he looked around for a broom or service droid, but of course there was nothing so practical in the immediate area.

When he glanced back her way, he noted that her toes were precariously near a rather large, jagged piece of glass, so he cleared his throat. "Don't you have any shoes?"

At this, she paused and tilted her face up at him. Positioned as she was, essentially kneeling at his feet, he felt a flash of arousal course through him again, because he was afforded a healthy view of the smooth, pink skin of her upper-thighs.

But on the heels of the arousal was chagrin, because the thought occurred to him that maybe she wasn't allowed to wear shoes or something...who knew what the rules were for a sex worker in a place like this? House Ambrosia was purported to treat their employees well, but there was no way of knowing the truth of such a thing.

"I have shoes," she said, straightening and still holding his gaze. "But I prefer being barefoot. In any case the glass didn't shatter too badly, so I can get most of the pieces now and send a cleaning droid in, later."

She held up the tray, which now contained several large, glinting pieces of glass that smelled like ale – damn, but it smelled pretty good, too – and dropped another, rounded chunk upon it, where it landed with a _clink. _"But thank you for being concerned for the well-being of my feet, Silver."

_What the heck...Silver?_

Had she _nicknamed_ him, in her own mind? Or was it another client's name, and she was getting them confused? Wolffe had a sudden image of a vast series of rooms identical to this one, each containing a man like him, a beautiful Zeltron woman, and shards of glass scattered and glittering at their feet.

So he gave her his best arched brow, the kind that made the shinies tremble in their boots. "Excuse me?"

He watched, amused and bewildered, as she flushed a deeper shade of pink. "Mr. Dorin, I mean." Before he could reply, she offered him another smile, the not-so-genuine kind, the kind that reminded him who and what she was, and what she likely viewed him as. "I'll get you another."

Perhaps she was more flustered than either of them realized, for she turned, stepped, and let out a swift curse, this time dropping the entire tray and the pieces of glass she'd picked up, so that everything clattered back to the stone floor. But he hardly noticed any of that, because he'd looked down to see a bright patch of blood blossoming around her right heel. Without hesitation, Wolffe scooped her up and carried her well beyond the spread of broken glass.

As he did, he tried not to think how warm she felt in his arms, how soft and curvy she was, or how her body seemed to mold itself to his chest, like they were designed for one another. Those were silly thoughts that had no purpose, especially in a place like this.

Only a few steps were needed to bring her to safety, but he was careful to visually scan the stonework on the ground before he felt comfortable putting her down.

"Do you have a medkit on hand?" he asked her as he carefully tipped her legs towards the flagstones, allowing her a moment to regain her footing before he released her from his arms. "You don't want that cut to get infected."

"I'm fine," she said, her voice a little breathless. "It's...I'm fine. Yes, we have a medkit nearby."

She was still flushed, if possible even more so than he'd seen, but he only had eyes for her bleeding heel, which she'd raised, balancing on her weight the ball of her foot. "That's why you should wear shoes," he said with a frown at her. "Being barefoot is a safety hazard."

There was a moment before she replied, during which she took a deep breath, then met his eyes again; now he noticed that she seemed a little more collected than before. Sure enough, her features smoothed and she flashed him the smile he was starting to think of as _the fake one_. "So is being around a man like you, apparently. Luckily, you're willing to rescue a girl like me."

In no mood for her flirtatiousness, Wolffe shook his head. "Where's your medkit?"

"Don't worry about me, Mr. Dorin," she replied, her smile widening, though he could tell it was still forced. "I'll take care of everything. Why don't you have a nice, hot soak, and I'll return for you when Khaz and Sylphy are ready?"

Before he could answer, she offered him a quick bow, and stepped out of the room, leaving a single, bloody footprint in her wake.

* * *

_Stupid, fragging, glass. _

As Ava mopped at her bleeding heel with a disinfectant wipe, she let out a huff. Once she'd made it to the empty nurse's office, she had finally dropped her guard and allowed her emotions to pour out, though she was currently focused on wallowing in irritation._ Kriffing hell, what is wrong with me?_

It didn't hurt that much, and even if it had, she'd experienced far worse things than a little cut. No, all of the sting was against her own pride, that she'd let anyone – especially a _client – _get her so flustered that she'd do something so kriffing careless as to call him by the silly nickname she'd given him in her mind. It had been a pure slip on her part; she'd been...touched by his concern for her well-being, and for his admittance of guilt. Both were uncommon in her world, and she'd had no clue how to handle either.

All of the males and females who worked at House Ambrosia – herself included – were here only as vessels for whatever their clients deigned to give them, and blame for even such a small mishap as a broken glass could certainly be counted among those things. Perhaps there were smiles, but there was rarely genuine kindness or concern.

"Someone get a little rough?" A male voice made her look up; Ouzo, a tall, broad, green-skinned Twi'lek, was leaning at the doorway to the little office, regarding her with a lifted brow. "Was it that Human with the mismatched eyes Iolite told me about?"

"Yes, but it was an accident," Ava said as she tossed the wipe in the disposal unit, then reached for a pre-packaged swab of bacta to daub over the wound, which had finally stopped bleeding. "Which reminds me...will you send a cleaning droid to the spa room?"

He nodded, his thick _lekku _bobbing, but did not leave. Instead, he cast her a speculative look. "I don't think I've ever seen _you_ flustered like this, Mel. What kind of guy is he?"

"No one," she replied. Already, the bacta was tingling pleasantly against her skin, so she began to smooth a waterproof bandage over the cut. "Just some Human. I brought him an ale; he reached for the tray and knocked it out of my hands."

Ouzo nodded again, a look of alarm crossing his face. "He didn't...hurt you, did he?"

House Ambrosia wasn't the classiest place around, but physical abuse of the staff was generally not tolerated. There were some pleasure-houses that catered to such tastes, and others that allowed clients to do as they wished with no questions asked, but this was not one of them. Not a bad place to have landed, really. Ava shook her head. "Like I said: it was an accident."

"If you say so," he said, his _lekku _twitching in that way that meant he thought she wasn't telling him everything; he was right of course, but not about this. "I'll send a droid to clean up. Do you want me to take over hosting, or are you still up to it?"

"I'm fine; it's just a little cut," she said quickly, wriggling her foot to ensure that the seal of the bandage was intact. "But thanks, Ouzo."

He offered her a broad grin, the kind that made males and females alike turn into a puddle of goo and hormones. "Sure, Mel. Need anything _else_?"

To emphasize, his brows waggled suggestively and she rolled her eyes. He was a terrible flirt, but at least he'd had the decency to make sure she was well before he started coming on to her. Ouzo was an attractive specimen, no doubt, but she wasn't in the mood to even flirt back harmlessly. "Why don't you go pester Iolite? I'm sure she's bored silly up front on a day like this."

"Yeah, it's pretty dead," he replied with a sigh. "I don't think any other clients are even here today. The boss said something about coming in later, but I've no idea when that will be."

After he slipped out, Ava smoothed her hand across her bandaged heel one last time, then made her way to the nearest 'fresher to finish cleaning up. Unfortunately, her dress was not short enough to have avoided getting ale all over it, so she took a quick shower, dried her hair and changed into another, similar dress.

Once she thought enough time had passed, she grabbed a guest towel, made her way back to the spa room – still barefoot, thank you – took a breath, and entered. She saw at once that the droid had come and gone; the stone floor was gleaming and free of glass, but she didn't see _Silver _anywhere.

_Excuse me, Mr. Kell Dorin, _she thought wryly as she stepped to the nearest pool, glowing a deep purple that matched her hair. Kriff, he was nowhere to be seen, and she wondered if he'd left, or if Ouzo had asked Khaz or Sylphy to fetch him after all. No; his robe was still hanging up, so she pulled it off of the hook and glanced around again. "Mr. Dorin?"

A splashing sound made her turn. He was seated in one of the gleaming red pools, the water frothing around his muscled chest and an expression on his face that was filled with disapproval, which was when she realized that he was looking at her feet._ Of all things._

Ignoring the disapproval, Ava folded the robe over her free arm and moved through the pools, coming to a halt beside him. Now his eyes lifted to her face, and she felt it: a flare of attraction like before, though it was still tempered with annoyance. _No_, she realized._ Not tempered...strengthened_. Maybe he'd actually relaxed in the pool, at least a little bit.

Heartened by the idea that he was not unaffected, either, she picked up her foot, turning it so he could see the bandaged heel. "See? I can take care of myself. No reason to worry."

"You're still not wearing shoes," he replied, scowling up at her.

While it was a damn sexy scowl, she wondered if he ever smiled. Probably not, if a nod was so hard to come by. _I think I could coax a smile from him, though._ As if to try and prove it, Ava gave him her most impish grin, one that was always returned. "I like to live dangerously."

This made him exhale, and the scowl deepened despite the trace of amusement she could see in his eyes – both of them, not just the brown. When he spoke again, his voice was neutral. "Is it time for my appointment, yet?"

Actually, the brown eye wasn't so plain, as she'd initially thought. It was a light brown, a warm brown; almost gold. She still liked the silver one better, but the other one was nice, too. Ava nodded. "If you're ready. There's no rush, you know."

"I'm ready," he replied as he got to his feet and accepted the towel that she offered; now that he was standing, the water hit his waist and she got another nice, long look at his muscled chest, his perfect abdomen, his sinewy arms...Force, she loved a man's arms, especially when they were like his, strong and supple. She loved them when they were braced on either side of her head and when she could feel his breath hot on her ear as he moved inside of her body.

Ava allowed none of these thoughts to show. Once he'd dried off, she offered him the robe and he accepted, sliding it across his broad shoulders and knotting the belt securely at his waist. The sandals had been left at the pool's edge, and within moments he was shod and following her towards the door after she discarded the used towel. Neither of them spoke until they were moving through the corridors, heading to the Amaranth Room.

"Does it hurt?"

They'd reached the door; she could hear Khaz and Sylphy speaking within, but his words made her pause. "A little," she admitted with a shrug. "But like I said, it's nothing to concern yourself with."

Even though her dress placed her body on display, his silver-and-gold gaze was fixed on her face, nowhere else, and she tried not to let the notion discomfit her. Instead she offered him a smile and activated the door, stepping aside to allow him entry. "When you're finished, I'll escort you back to the locker-rooms," she said as he stood at the threshold. "Or somewhere else, if you prefer. I'm at your disposal, Mr. Dorin."

It was as clear an offer as she could make in the presence of others, though she'd never had to work so hard for any sort of acknowledgment. Despite this, his silver-and-gold eyes looked back at her but she could read nothing of his emotions. There was no indication that he found her even nice to look at, let alone anything else, and she wondered if she'd read too much into the entire encounter. It had happened before, though not in a long time.

In fact, the only answer she got was another, single nod, after which he stepped into the room where Khaz and Sylphy were waiting, and as the door shut she wondered at the swell of disappointment that had appeared in her chest.

* * *

_Internet cookies if you know where Wolffe's pseudonym comes from. ;)_

_Thanks for reading!  
_

_Next time: namana massage!  
_


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

_Switch me on;_

_Turn me up._

_I want to touch you,_

_You're just made for love._

~Goldfrapp, "Ooh La La."

* * *

As Wolffe nodded to her, he thought: _Fek, it should not be this hard._

Every iota of the commander's self-control was being used to keep his thoughts cool and professional around the pink-skinned Zeltron woman, and even so, he was barely managing.

The entire time she'd been gone and he'd been in the spa, he'd thought of little else but the feel of her body against his as he carried her, the lovely flush that had appeared on her face, and the way her dark violet hair spilled across her pink shoulders. After he'd checked and double-checked that there were no monitoring devices in the spa room, he'd opted for a soak in one of the hot pools to play along in his role, but the presence of crimson-colored water surrounding his body had only made him wonder how Melusiné would look soaking wet, with her skin slick beneath his hands-

_Kriff, I'm doing it again._ The commander inhaled deeply and was met with a sweet scent that was only vaguely familiar.

Thankfully, the door slid shut and Melusiné was gone again, leaving him in a small but sparse room with a long, low table and two females, a Human and another Zeltron. Both were beautiful; both were smiling at him with that empty, vapid expression he was growing to dislike very much, and neither looked him in the eyes.

"Welcome, sir," the Zeltron said, indicating the table, which was padded and covered with a sheet. "Please disrobe and lie down."

_Disrobe? No fragging way. _"No, uh...thanks," he managed, resiting the urge to tug at the belt of his robe.

The Twi'lek, pale blue with eyes to match, winked in his direction. "It is customary to be nude for this treatment," she said smoothly. "Rest assured we're quite comfortable with such a thing."

"It's not _your_ comfort I'm worried about," he muttered before he could stop himself.

At his words, the females exchanged glances, then looked back his way. The Zeltron – _shab, _he didn't remember either name – gave him a broad, teasing smile, similar to the kind that he'd seen Melusiné offer, but lacking the same brilliance. Her skin had a more purplish tint to it than Melusiné's, her hair was a vibrant pink that fell in soft, rippling curls around her face, and her eyes were empty.

"Please, allow us to do our jobs, Mr. Dorin," she said, approaching him with the polished grace of a dancer.

It took him a moment to remember the false name he'd given, which irked him, but reminded him that he was here on a mission; he'd been in far worse, far more dangerous circumstances before, after all, and any more hesitation on his part might be cause for suspicion, so he forced himself to nod.

"Fine," he said with a sigh. "But I'm not interested in anything _other_ than a massage. No _additional _services_._ Is that clear?"

The Twi'lek giggled; the Zeltron grinned. Wolffe rolled his eyes.

A moment later, both females had moved to help him slide out of the robe, but thankfully neither one spoke as they guided him to the table and helped him settle down on his stomach, leaving him feeling far more exposed than he preferred.

_Mission, _he thought, willing himself to relax and play along. _The Seppie informant. Get over yourself; you're on duty. _

At least he'd kept on the shorts, though they were still damp. The Zeltron bade him extend his arms at his sides and rest his cheek flat against the table, where there was a slightly raised portion for this purpose. He couldn't see the Twi'lek, but figured she was adjusting the lighting, because it dimmed, to be followed by a swell of music, low and rhythmic.

Beneath the music he caught the sound of opening jars, and that same strange but semi-familiar scent lifted again. _What the kriff is that? _

Before he could ask, however, the Twi'lek spoke to him, her lips brushing his ear. "Please, relax," she breathed. "This won't hurt, we promise."

"Unless you want it to," the Zeltron added, a grin in her voice. As she spoke, her hands rested on his shoulders, and his body tensed again as she smoothed her fingers across his skin. "Very nice," she said, her voice a little distant as if she was looking at her co-worker. "Isn't he nice-looking, Sylphy?"

"Oh, yes," the Twi'lek replied in a sultry voice that was decidedly forced. "Did you see his abs?"

The Zeltron – _Khaz_, he remembered at last – made a noise of agreement and he felt her hands lift; they returned a moment later, colder and creamy with what he assumed was part of the massage. "Also nice," she said as he felt another set of hands join hers, and the sweet scent further assaulted his senses. "I could eat off of them."

Even if he'd wanted to reply to their inane chatter, he couldn't have. _Fek_, he could hardly think once he got a good whiff of whatever they were glomping all over his back, because his brain was being overtaken by _desire_.

It swam through his entire body, pooling in his groin and setting his fingertips on fire. Even as a part of his mind was finally able to register the fact that whatever they were rubbing on him was heavy with namana – a Bakuran flower known for its aphrodisiac properties – it was only a fleeting realization in the wake of other, more powerful thoughts.

Correction: urges.

Slick hands, gliding across his back, his arms, his legs...he wanted _more_, and all over. He wanted to turn on his back and let them strip off his shorts and do whatever it was they were apparently so keen on-

_No. Not this, not now. _Wolffe took a breath and tried to fight away the heady feeling of arousal that was washing through him with each inhale. He had no wish for manufactured sensuality, even if nothing had felt so kriffing good in a long, _long_ time.

_The mission..._he tried to focus on _that_ and not the way that one of the female's hands kept sliding up his shorts, ghosting along the curve of his cheeks, but it was hard. Really hard. He forced back a groan and bit the inside of his cheek.

One of them giggled again, and he felt the waistband of the shorts being lifted, felt the brush of cooler air; he wanted to raise his head and put a stop to it, but the shorts remained in place even as small, supple hands worked their way across his bare skin. The air was thick with namana and his head was starting to spin, both with arousal and with the effort of keeping it in check. Lying on his stomach was growing more uncomfortable with each passing moment, so he shifted his hips to better situate his swelling body.

Of course, that made them giggle yet again, and even through the haze of his desire he felt annoyed.

"Would you like help getting out of those shorts?" one of the females asked. He thought it was the Zeltron, but honestly couldn't distinguish between them any longer.

"No," he managed to reply, causing another bout of tittering. His tongue felt thick and heavy, and his heart was starting to beat faster, and he felt a flash of apprehension that they'd drugged him with something worse than namana. However, another deep breath brought back a measure of composure as he recalled what he'd read of the effects of the nectar: this was normal. Irritating, maybe, but not dangerous.

Not dangerous. Not like Melusiné.

_Kriff, where did that come from? _

Wolffe had no clue, but on the heels of the thought were others: the cant of her hips as she walked that he _knew _was meant to incite, though he found that he didn't give a kriff; the way she'd looked at his entire person with unconcealed interest but seemed to prefer his eyes; the press of her body, flush against his chest, warm and quivering in his arms.

The look of utter shock on her face when he'd set her back on her feet, as if no one in the entire galaxy had ever considered to take her out of harm's way.

Her damnable smile – the real one. Bright, brilliant, beautiful.

Like nothing he'd ever seen. Like nothing, he was sure, he'd ever see again once he left this place.

Arousal throbbed throughout his entire body, but he did not fight it, this time. Hands continued to slide across his back, arms, legs and ass, and he let them. Namana hung thick in the air, swirling his thoughts and eking away at his careful control, but his thoughts were all of her.

For now, there he let them stay.

* * *

Ava spent most of the next ninety minutes in a state of indecision, which she did not care for, not in the least. Even though it was quiet and she probably could have hidden out in one of the other "relaxation" rooms, she chose to get some work done, if for no other reason than to give her trembling hands something to do.

Silver was just a man, like any other. An attractive one, no doubt, maybe one of the most attractive she'd ever seen, but still.

Just a client. Just a man.

If she was that hard up for a bit of fun that she was losing her wits over a client, she knew it would take no more than a smile and a few words to have Ouzo happily obliging her. The Twi'lek was a terrible flirt, but he was no tease. He made no offer he was not prepared to back up, and as she'd learned in the past, he was quite skilled in his line of work. While he wouldn't keep her interest for more than an hour or so, Ava knew it would be one hell of an hour.

Except she didn't want Ouzo. She didn't want _anyone_ but Mr. Silver-and-Gold, and the realization settled in the pit of her stomach like handfuls of smooth, hard stones.

She just wanted that one man.

_I knew it, _she thought with a frown as she moved through the corridors, still trying to figure out what she should do with her spare time. _I knew he'd be trouble. _

She settled with tidying up Sinopé's office, half-thinking she'd come across something useful she could pass on to Jurma the Hutt, but there wasn't anything she hadn't seen before. The room was sparsely decorated, but still managed to be opulent, which she attributed to the fact that everything, from the Japor ivory wood desk to the holo-communicator was of the highest quality. Sinopé Scota may be considered a whore-monger and a Separatist informant, but her taste couldn't be faulted, at least not by Ava. The other things, the whore-mongering and the spying...well, Ava wasn't exactly above either one, was she? Far from it.

It was nice to turn her thoughts away from Silver-and-Gold, but it didn't last long. Once the room was tidied, Ava stood on the plush rug at the center of the cool, dim office and reminded herself that she wasn't just another worker in a pleasure-house: she was bonded to Jurma the Hutt and while her body may be her own – for now – her life certainly was not. No matter how much she might wish otherwise, Ava was not free; she had a task to perform, a task that was reliant on her retaining no small measure of control over herself, and this man was distracting her.

Besides, if he really was Republic, Jurma would probably want to know.

Ava was under orders to inform.

A chime sounded. She glanced up at the chrono on the wall and realized that it was nearly time for him to be done with his massage, so she slipped out of the office and hurried towards the kitchen, where she'd gotten the ale before. No one but the cooking droid was there so she selected a nice, large bottle of spring water from the conservator, then made her way back to the Amaranth Room. He'd be thirsty; clients always were after a namana-oil massage.

They were also tired, pleased, and a little muzzy from the effects of the namana, though once the throb of desire had been sated, a client's head would begin to clear. The image of Sylphy and Khaz helping him to _sate _said throb drifted into her head as she moved through the corridors, and she found herself scowling, like an idiot.

Because she would have to be an idiot to feel jealousy for a man she'd only known a few scant hours, a man who, despite any unfamiliarity he may have had with a pleasure-house, had still come here of his own free will – she presumed – and had gone willingly into Khaz and Sylphy's care.

She reached the door to the Amaranth Room and lifted her hand to activate the panel that would announce her presence, but held herself in check. Instead, she listened for any sounds that might reveal what was happening within, but it was silent. Well, that could be a sign of...something. Had he been with her, there would have been no silence to speak of.

Ava took a deep breath to calm herself, then on a whim she opened up her senses to see if she could detect any notable pheromones-

_Holy kriffing hell_.

Arousal was common in a place like this. Had she been less able to block out the insistent feeling emanating from clients and coworkers alike, Ava would have been consistently buffeted by the heady sense; additionally, while she _could _coax the feeling from others, she preferred her partners willing and under their own control, because it always felt wrong to influence someone in that primal way. Unless they asked for it, in which case she'd happily oblige.

But she could feel him, her Silver-and-Gold. His desire was not a spark, or even a flame. It was a blaze, a firestorm, and she realized at once that he'd not partaken of Khaz and Slyphy's considerable charms. Why, though?

The door slid open and he stepped out, the robe and shoes tucked under one arm so that he was bare of all clothing except the black shorts. His body gleamed with namana-oil, which defined each perfect muscle, and his chest was heaving as if he'd just run a marathon. His stride was still predatory, but there was a stronger, fierce purpose behind each step, and his feet made no sound on the cool, marble floor.

Somehow, she noticed Khaz and Sylphy in the room behind him, looking perplexed and a little put out, but once she looked in his eyes, everything else fell away.

Ice: silver-cool, shining with intelligence.

Fire: hot and gold and burning with passion.

Ava's mouth opened but no sound came out. The realization swept over her that he could have whipped out a blaster and held it point-blank to her heart, and she would have been unable to do more than blink at him.

Thank the Force her body knew what to do. The hand holding the water bottle extended towards him, and she watched as he stared at it for one moment, as if trying to remember how to move his own hand; finally he accepted the bottle wordlessly, but did not drink.

"People are usually thirsty afterward," she managed at last, still completely riveted by his eyes.

Her words seemed to shake him out of his trance. Nodding, he twisted off the cap and tilted the bottle's contents down his throat, his eyes closing briefly as he drank. Taking a moment to try and collect herself, Ava slapped the heel of her palm against the panel by the door, ignoring the knowing smirks of Khaz and Sylphy, then looked back at Silver-and-Gold.

As he drank, the movement of his throat fascinated her. Ava wanted to feel his skin beneath her mouth and her hands; she wanted to feel _him_, all over her body, within and without, and it was taking an unbelievable effort to stand here and act professional when all she wanted to do was jump in his arms again.

He drained the bottle's contents, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then gave her a wry look. "You weren't kidding. Thanks."

Force, even his accent sounded rougher, huskier, and suddenly she wanted him to say her name – her _real _name – in that voice.

No one should have this affect on her. It wasn't right; it went against the norm, and she had never felt less in control of herself then right now. _Just a man, _she told herself as she gave him a perfect, dazzling smile._ Like any other. Nothing special. _

"I can take all of that," she said, holding out her hands for the robe, sandals and the now-empty water bottle. "Would you like a steam?"

Surprisingly, he passed the items to her without hesitation, and she relaxed with the mundane action. Even if he was Republic, he was still a client, like any other. Maybe he got off this way, being left unfulfilled until he was alone, as he'd been in the shower, earlier. She'd encountered much stranger fetishes.

As he handed her the water-bottle, their fingertips brushed and she had the wild thought that someone had jabbed her with an electrostaff. Fire and ice raced from the point of contact through her entire body, and she couldn't help but suck in her breath; looking up, she watched as his eye dilated, the black pupil growing wide across a thinning band of near-gold.

After that, it was very, very hard for Ava to give a kriff about self-control.

"A steam?" he asked after a beat.

She nodded. "If you're still feeling...out-of-sorts from the massage, a little time in the sauna will help cleanse your system."

"That sounds good," he said with another of his trademark, single nods. "Will you take me?"

_Sweet Force, yes. _"Nothing would please me more," she replied, and he smiled.

It was a thin, half-smile, barely a flicker, but it was enough to make her foolish heart skip a beat. But she was a professional, so after disposing the water-bottle she led him back through the corridors, back to the spa room, where the saunas were also located. This time, though, she could all but feel his gaze on her hips, even though this time it was all she could do to walk normally, let alone sway them in any sort of seductive way.

Arousal was still ebbing off of him, and it only seemed to strengthen with each moment; when they entered the spa room, she glanced at him as she hung up the robe and set down his shoes. The look in his eyes – both of them – told her what she needed to know and most of her apprehension evaporated.

"Have you had a steam before?" she asked, gesturing to the room to her left. His head shook and she took a breath to try and calm her racing heart. "Would you like me to show you how it works?"

"Nothing would please me more." When he echoed her words, his voice was dark and dangerous, edged with teasing and thick with desire. His eyes were fixed on her as if nothing else in the galaxy existed and any final thoughts of control fled her mind.

The sauna was small but well-made, containing a series of benches made of high-quality Iridonian cedar that smelled heavenly. There was a raised platform in the center that contained the heating-element, with a selection of round, smooth stones at the top, along with a basin of water and a ladle, both resting beside it. The room itself was kept at a constant temperature that was jokingly referred to as "sweltering," but that was the entire point.

Once they were both inside and the door was closed, Ava took a seat on one of the benches that surrounded the raised center, checked the readout on the thermometer, then began to ladle water over the stones, which caused a pleasant steam to rise. Already, she could feel herself sweating, and a glance at her companion showed that he was now gleaming with both perspiration and namana-oil.

The scent of namana that clung to him merged beautifully with the cedar, and each inhale filled her senses with the aromas, not to mention the heady mixture of masculinity and arousal that he was emanating.

"Here," she said, offering him the ladle. "You try."

He'd taken a seat beside her on the bench; even through his shorts she could see that he was completely aroused at this point, but he only took the ladle from her hand, dipped it in the water and drizzled it across the stones. Steam rose in the air and she smiled as she watched it spiraling between them.

"This is...nice," he said quietly, his eyes on her; there was desire within them, pure, unfettered longing, but there was also a question. Luckily she had an answer.

"Yes," she replied.

Then she kissed him.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! _

_Next time, things heat up._


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

_You just gotta give more, more, more,  
Than you ever have before.  
And you gotta move fast, fast, fast,_

_If you want this good thing to last._

~Madonna, "Dance Tonight."

* * *

No woman had kissed him since before Khorm.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, but Khorm had been the turning point, after which it'd been all but impossible for him to find a woman who _wanted _to kiss him, let alone anything more. There had been some talk about women who found battle-scars _sexy, _but he'd never come across any.

Until now, apparently.

Wolffe's head was spinning and a part of him knew it wasn't just from the namana-massage, but right now, in this moment, he found it difficult to care. Later, he would probably feel chagrin for letting his guard down like this, but in the meantime Melusiné was kissing him and he was kissing her back.

They were seated beside one another on the cedar bench in the sauna and it was so kriffing hot he thought he was about to catch on fire, but none of it mattered when her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled their bodies closer, closer. _Fek, _her skin was hot, even beneath his burning fingertips, and she tasted sweet and spicy all at once. Round, full breasts were pushed against his chest and his hands were torn between finding places on them, or her hips, or tangling in her hair.

He wanted all of her, all at once, and nothing less than every part of this woman would satisfy that singular desire.

It'd been a long time since he'd kissed anyone, but he remembered how to well enough, even through the namana-haze, and he gave her everything he had because it seemed to please her. Her lips had parted eagerly to allow his tongue entrance into her mouth, and the moment he'd done so, she'd let out a wordless noise of approval and clambered into his lap.

Everything was happening so fast and the heat of this room was enough to choke, but Wolffe didn't give a kriff about anything but the rosy-skinned woman that he was kissing again and again. He rested his hands on her hips, savoring both the way she was rocking against him and the friction of his shorts against his swollen skin.

The dress she was wearing was tight and short, and when she'd climbed into his lap, the movement caused it to slide up around the lovely swell of her hips. When he realized she was bare beneath the dress, he couldn't help his own groan at the notion, nor another when his thumbs brushed lower, between her thighs, and he felt that she was ready for whatever he could give. The notion that she wanted _him_, too, nearly caused him to lose what fragile threads of control he'd managed to cling to so far. It had been so long, after all.

Throughout all of this, Melusiné continued to move her body against his with enough eagerness to drive him completely insane as the pulse of his desire elevated. Slender, agile fingers grasped at his neck and his shoulders, alighting on his chest and his cheeks, like she wanted to touch him everywhere, all at once.

After a few minutes they pulled apart, gasping; her skin was a deep, deep pink and she was smiling at him. "These shorts," she managed, reaching down to tug at the waistband. "Have got to go."

"Your dress, too," he said even as she leaned up to allow him to remove the shorts. When he looked back up, she'd shucked her own clingy garment and it was all he could do to keep from gaping at her.

She was more beautiful than anyone he'd ever seen.

_It's the namana making you act this way_, he told himself as he skimmed his fingertips along the swells of pink skin that beaded at his simple touch. _O__r her pheromones influencing you. She's a Zeltron; it's what they do._

Wolffe tried to tell himself that none of this was real.

It was no dream, but it wasn't quite a reality, either. He wasn't sure exactly where in the void he was, but then she looked into his eyes and gave him the smile that was his undoing, so he reached for her again, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap once more. They were skin-to-skin and he thought that any moment he'd catch fire, and he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was but all that came out was her name, barely a gasp because it was so hard to catch his breath.

Then she pulled back. Like him, her breath was short; there wasn't a plethora of light in here but he could see that her lips were flushed a deeper pink than any other part of her from kissing him, and she was looking at him with uncertainty. Alarm coursed through his body, smoothing away the sharper edges of his arousal. He was unfamiliar with the customs of a pleasure-house, after all. Had he done something wrong? Had he offended her in some way?

_Kriff, we don't have any protection, _he realized, and fought to catch his breath so he could speak.

But she beat him to it. She leaned closer to him, nudging her lips to his with a feather-touch. "Ava," she whispered.

The word emerged unsteady as a newborn fawn, and he wondered at it. "Ava?"

Her lips parted in a smile that was as genuine as it was nervous. "My real name."

_Ava. _He said it again and watched the uncertainty in her face recede a little bit.

"I wanted you to know," she added, and frowned as if to herself, much as he did when he understood something he wished he hadn't.

"Ava," he replied, kissing her lips once, gently. Her body was still hot and quivering in his lap, but he held back the myriad of insistent urges and schooled himself to patience. It occurred to him that he should tell her his own name, but he was still on a mission, lax as he was being at the moment, so he only gave her a smile and added: "It suits you."

She smiled back, and it was better than anything else he'd ever seen. "Kiss me again," she whispered against his mouth. "Please."

* * *

When obliged her, Ava knew she was a lost cause.

He was all strength and purpose, but the gentle brush of his lips to hers as he'd said her name struck something within her, something that had been strung tight with tension but resonated at his touch, and she was still reeling from the smile he'd given.

There were more heated, breathless moments as they clung to one another, still not crossing that last barrier, and she sensed a kind of hesitation from him, so she pulled back again and met his silver-gold eyes. "You want protection?"

Everyone at House Ambrosia was clean, as she'd told him before. Despite her status as a slave, Ava was still considered valuable in a sense, and it behooved Jurma to keep her healthy; as such, there were all kinds of exams and vaccinations that she underwent several times a year that protected her from diseases, and she couldn't get pregnant. However, there was no way that Silver-and-Gold would know any of that, and she thought again that he showed remarkable restraint, even now, when they were so close.

"Yeah," he replied, looking down at their nearly-joined bodies before meeting her eyes again. "No offense, but-"

"None taken." She glanced down, searching for his discarded shorts. Finding them, she braced herself against him for support as she fished around in the pocket for what she knew was placed in each article of clothing provided by House Ambrosia; it was a common-enough practice for most pleasure-houses. Moments later she withdrew a small package and his eyes widened.

"That's...handy," he said as he reached for the packet.

But she didn't relinquish it, instead giving him another smile as she tore it open and withdrew the synth-skin condom. "That's the idea."

It went on quickly and easily, and she delighted in the way he sucked in his breath at her touch. She also took a moment to delight in _him_, in his entirety, and again she felt a thrill of anticipation course through her veins.

"Better?" she asked once everything was secure.

His arms were resting on her hips; at her word, he pulled her close and gave her a fierce kiss against her mouth. "You can't imagine."

"That sounds like a challenge," she said as she allowed her body to be maneuvered; he was so close, now, she could feel him brushing against her center, and it was an effort to keep from begging again. The air was so hot, her heart was racing and she could hardly breathe, but she didn't care. There was nothing else in the galaxy other than the only thing she wanted, more than any other.

Silver-and-Gold, all of him. _Now_.

The look in his eyes was pure desire, but still he held himself at a maddening distance and threaded one of his hands through her hair as he studied her expression. So close. Ava sucked in her breath, willing herself to calm down, to wait. So often this part was rushed, but now that she was here, she wanted nothing more than everything.

Kriffing hell, he seemed to know it, too. _Fragging pheromones._

"Now?" he murmured, a ghost of a smile on his face even as he brushed himself against her once more. "Ava?"

It was her name, her real name, in his baritone that was her undoing. "Please," she said, her head falling forward and her arms tightening around his shoulders. "_Now_."

Everything was silent for a heartbeat, then he was inside of her, filling her completely, and nothing in her life had ever been this right. There was a moment where neither of them moved and she wondered what in the nine Corellian hells he could possibly be waiting for; their breath mingled in the heated air and she felt his heart thundering beneath her chest, then he was speaking in her ear. "This is alright? I'm not hurting you?"

Ava would have laughed had she been able to catch her breath. As it was, she rocked herself against him, allowing her body to speak when her voice could not and hoping he'd get the idea.

But either he was stubborn or his reserves of control far, far outmatched her own. Strong hands reached up to cup her cheeks, forcing her to hold still and meet his gaze; when he spoke his voice was deliberate. "Is this okay? Yes or no, Ava?"

She could not remember the last time she'd truly had a choice, if indeed she ever had. "Yes," she gasped, rocking her hips again and savoring his answering groan of acknowledgment. "_Yes_."

The heat within the room did not just surround them, it filled them from the inside-out, and her head was spinning with the race of her heart and the continuing shortness of her breath. Some dim corner of her mind warned her that with the she was perilously close to over-exerting herself in the high temperature of the sauna, but the rest of her brain and body did not care.

All she cared about was beneath her, within her, murmuring her name while he held her close, like she was something precious, something to be cherished and protected even here, even now. Even though she was completely in her element, this experience was nothing like she was used to. It was unique, just like him.

They peaked together; another advantage that her pheromones gave. When he said her name, it had never sounded like it did in his accented voice.

Ava said nothing. She couldn't even catch her breath enough to cry out as was her custom, but she didn't dwell on what such a thing meant. When it was over her heart was still racing and her vision was swimming, and she heard him saying her name again, breathless but slightly worried this time, so she tried to smile at him but she thought the expression came out a little slippery.

He swore, then slid out of her body, but before she could miss his absence she felt herself being lifted up in his arms again, which was odd, because her heel wasn't hurting and she could walk just _fine_, but when she tried to tell him he only cursed again. The door to the sauna burst open and he stepped out, his arms full of her, and the next thing she knew she was being assaulted with air that should not have felt as freezing cold as it did, so she pressed herself closer to him, to her Silver-and-Gold. Such a pleasant source of heat.

The slosh of water hit her strangely, but before she could complain she felt something cold lap at her feet, then her calves, and she looked down to see purple, right as he immersed her in one of the tepid pools of the spa room.

As the chill covered her up to her neck, Ava found her voice. "_Kriff_, that's fragging _freezing_!"

He made no response other than to settle beside her, keeping his hands on her body to hold her upright. A moment later she felt the cool wetness of his hands against her face, as if he was trying to smooth the water across her burning skin. "Ava," he said at last. "Ava, look at me."

When Ava met his eyes, somehow, even through the lightness of her head, she noted the concern within them both, the silver and the gold. "It's easy, because you're so kriffing beautiful," she told him. "But you need to smile more."

"I'll work on that," he said, his gaze still searching hers. "How do you feel?"

"Cold." She frowned and tried to move closer to him, sighing with relief when his arms embraced her. "Mmm...better now."

She felt the movement of his chest as he exhaled and his arms tightened around her, and for several minutes neither of them spoke. As her heart slowed to a more normal pace, she found that she was able to catch her breath, which allowed her head to clear. When she looked up, he was watching her with that same wary expression she'd seen him wearing earlier.

"I got carried away," she said, leaning her head back against his chest. Solid. He was warm and so solid. "Sorry about that. You were worth it, though."

A chuckle escaped him, but his tone was solemn. "We both got carried away. Are you feeling better?"

She grinned and kissed his collarbone. "Yes, Mr. Dorin."

There was a pause, then she noted the amusement in his voice. "I thought we were on a first-name basis, now."

"Right," she said, pressing herself closer to him as she recalled his pseudonym. "Kell, wasn't it?"

Another pause, one that carried more weight. "Wolffe."

"Wolffe." This made her lean back to look at him, and she saw at once that he'd not meant to say the name, which was how she knew it was really his. "That explains a lot."

At his look of confusion she arched her brow. "Because I knew you were dangerous."

His hands tightened around her body and there was silence for a while longer. The water felt better and better as her core temperature normalized. It was peaceful, here. Even the music had stopped.

The music.

_Oh, kriff. _Ava sat up, looking around the room. No one had come in, but it was just a matter of time. They should probably leave...at least find somewhere more private.

"What's wrong?" There was alarm in his voice, but only a little, like whatever her answer was he knew he'd be able to handle.

"We must have taken longer than I realized; the night shift is starting."

"And?"

Ava gave him a wry smile. "I heard that my boss is supposed to stop by, tonight, and I'm breaking quite a few rules, right now."

Confusion crossed his features, but smoothed after a moment; even so, she could sense embarrassment roiling off of him, which amused her a little. He cleared his throat. "You're not...I mean, you work here, don't you?"

"Yes, I work here," she said with a nod. "But I'm not insured for sex with clients. I'm not a whore. Well," she amended, seeing his embarrassed look deepen. "Not at this exact moment."

He blinked at her; she could practically _see _him trying to shake off his emotions at her words, which she found oddly adorable, especially when his face was tinted purple by the lights of the pool. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I'm-" she paused, recalling the phrase that Jurma had told her to use if anyone asked her to describe her position at House Ambrosia. "-a bonded servant," she said at last, leaning against his chest and savoring the feel of his body against hers.

It was not the truth, but it was close enough Besides, people tended to react very strongly to the word _slave, _and she had no wish to see him regard her with disgust or, even worse, pity.

Because her head was still a little muzzy, she very nearly said Jurma's name, but caught herself at the last minute. "Sinopé Scota owns my bond-price, which means I've a debt to pay off, so I take what jobs I am assigned until I do so. Right now, I work here as a hostess, but not a sex worker, because Sinopé didn't want to pay the insurance on another Zeltron. I hear it's astronomical."

Another glance up at him showed her that his expression was thoughtful and distant, though a moment later he looked down at her again; she watched as his gaze flickered across her body to rest on her right heel, where she could see through the violet-colored water that the waterproof bandage was still in place. "What will your boss do to you if you get caught with me?"

Kriff, she really should get up, but he was so warm and solid, and somehow still remarkably cozy. When she spoke it was against his chest as she brushed his skin with her lips. "There's a fine, at least, and a probationary period if Sinopé is really annoyed."

"A fine likely means more debt," he replied, his hand lifting to tilt her chin up to his face. "I'm sure you don't want that."

The look in his eyes was all concern but she sensed his arousal – again – and her body reacted with a shift against his; she was nearly in his lap and it was difficult to concentrate on anything but the press of him against her thigh. "No," she said at last. "But what I want doesn't really matter, does it?"

Wolffe scowled at her again, which only made her smile, though after a moment she sighed and rolled her eyes. "We _should_ leave," she admitted. "I'm sure you have to get back to...wherever it is you come from, anyway."

"Actually..." He paused and seemed to debate something, then he shook his head, his expression an odd mix of resignation, annoyance and...amusement. "I don't have...to leave, just yet."

It was silly how happy his words made her, but there was no way she could hide her smile. Ava had learned this lesson long ago: the good parts of life never lasted long, so it was best to enjoy them while they did.

What did it matter, what he was? He was here_, now_. That was all that mattered. She shifted her hips and grinned when she felt his body continue to respond; the water was pleasant and warm, all trace of its earlier chill having faded now that her core temperature had returned to normal.

"Unfinished business?" she teased.

"Something like that," he replied, skimming his thumb across her lips, which only made her smile broaden. He paused, frowned, then glanced around the room before looking back at her. "Ava, I want to spend more time here, with you, but not if it will cause you any trouble."

_Here, with you, _she noted. Not one or the other; perhaps he did want _her, _but there was something else keeping him around as well, and she remembered her earlier assessment. Yes, he was probably Republic. Probably military, which likely meant a spec-ops agent of some kind.

But if that was the case, if he _was _Republic, if he _was _here to track down Sinopé...where did that leave her? Not that Jurma had any loyalty to the Corellian woman, but Ava knew well-enough that she could shift this encounter a number of ways; she could confess everything she knew to Silver – Wolffe – and see if her instincts were right, or she could enjoy his company all night long, then comm Jurma later and let the Hutt decide what to do with the information.

Neither option was entirely palatable.

In fact, the only thing she knew for certain was that she didn't want him to go, so she shifted in the pool, straddling herself over his thighs again, facing him as her movements made the water lap gently over the pool's edge. "You can rent a room for the night," she told him. "It's not uncommon. And I have it on good authority that you wouldn't have to spend the night alone."

Another, faint smile as his hands trailed up her spine, light enough to make her shiver and want _more_. "Is that right?"

"The room is pricey," she added, tilting her hips against his, watching with satisfaction as his pupil dilated; the gold eye was so easy to read, while the silver continued to regard her, unchanging. "It's kind of a scam, actually. If you were paying for _me_, my rate would be a lot cheaper than the room. If I offended easily, it'd be kind of insulting."

The trace of a smile faded, replaced by a frown, and his hands fell back to her waist. He seemed to consider her words for a moment, so Ava waited as patiently as she was able, even though within her chest, her heart had started to beat faster at the thought of having this man all to herself, in a proper bed. If he agreed to that much, she would figure out the rest as it came.

It occurred to her that she was unused to bargaining with anyone like this, hoping for an answer she liked; in the past, all she had to do was show up and things would fall out pretty much as expected. Now, though, she was in unfamiliar territory, not only because she was hoping to stay in his arms but because she felt...safe, despite everything else.

It wouldn't last, of course. Nothing good ever lasted.

That was why _right now_ had to be more than enough.

"Okay," he said at last, smoothing a thumb across her lips again. "I need to check something first, but if I can, I'll stay the night."

When he kissed her, Ava's heart leaped, her stomach twisted into agitated knots, her brain pinged a warning and her fingertips ached with unfulfilled longing.

She ignored them all and kissed him back, as hard as she could.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! As usual, any and all comments, thoughts, or feedback are welcome. :)_

_Next time: Wolffe tries to balance his mission parameters with his personal preferences.  
_


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_A dreamer of pictures, _

_I run in the night._

_You see us together, _

_Chasing the moonlight._

_My cinnamon girl._

~Neil Young, "Cinnamon Girl."

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, when he was back in the locker-room, changing into his civilian disguise, Wolffe didn't know quite what to think.

The mission had taken an...unexpected turn, and while he didn't mind certain aspects of the whole thing, he still felt like he was being derelict in his duty. He'd gotten too carried away with Ava and had completely ignored the real reason that he was even _at_ House Ambrosia. No matter that her employer was whom the Republic had been searching for, no matter that he had worked out a way to hang around until he could apprehend the Sep; the reality was that he wanted to spend the night here for purely selfish reasons, all of which had agreed to meet him back at the front desk after he changed and made a quick comm-call.

Dressed back in his civvies, Wolffe scrubbed at his hair one last time with a towel, then discarded it down a chute meant for such a purpose. Before he stepped out, he gave himself a once-over in the long mirror above the row of sinks, searching for whatever it was that Ava saw when she gave him that brilliant smile of hers.

Finding nothing of note, he exited the locker-room and made his way to the atrium at the front. Ava wasn't there, nor was the female Twi'lek who'd checked him in before; in her place was a green-skinned male Twi'lek, who regarded him with a neutral expression. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I may want a room for the night," Wolffe replied with a nod. "But I'll need to make a quick comm-call before I'm sure. I'll be right back."

The Twi'lek gave a short bow but said nothing else, so the commander slipped out of the atrium and made his way into the streets of Nar Shaddaa. It was as he remembered from his initial approach through the Undercity: bright, glitzy, loud. The air smelled like cigarra smoke, stale perfume and electricity, as if the entire moon was alight with anticipation.

Or maybe he was still feeling the effects of the crinking namana.

_That'll be fun to explain to the General, _he thought as he stepped towards the relative privacy of a comm-booth. Actually, he still wasn't quite certain how he was going to explain _any_ of this to General Plo; honesty was, of course, the best policy, but there was something decidedly uncomfortable about being open to his CO about his sex life.

Which was, he figured, precisely the reason that one should _not_ mix business with pleasure.

_Shab, _he'd even given her his name – well, his nickname. Maybe that wasn't as bad; it wasn't like she knew his number and rank, or even, he mused, the fact that he was a clone at all. Despite the intelligent gleam in her eyes, she'd made no indication she knew any of his secrets, so perhaps giving her his nickname wasn't really a mistake. He honestly didn't know.

Wolffe exhaled as he ensured that the comm-booth door was secure. Maybe the GAR should have waited until one of the Nulls was free for this mission, because he clearly was not cut out for subterfuge.

But right now there wasn't room for that kind of doubt, so Wolffe took a deep breath to ensure that his voice wouldn't give away any agitation, then activated the subcutaneous comlink so that the link to the _Triumphant_ was opened.

It caught immediately and he heard the General's steady voice in his ear. _"Commander Wolffe."_

"General," he replied with a nod that was entirely habitual, even though he couldn't see the Kel Dor Jedi. "I've an update on my mission, sir." He waited for an acknowledgment; after it came, he continued. "I've ascertained that, not only does Sinopé Scota own this particular establishment, but that she will be arriving in person, this very night."

"_Then it sounds like you've uncovered an opportunity we should not pass up,"_ General Plo said; Wolffe could imagine his clawed hand stroking his breather mask as he considered all the implications._ "Do you have a more specific time-frame for Scota's arrival?"_

After taking another breath, Wolffe replied a beat later. "Unfortunately not, sir. However, I have a...cover for remaining here overnight, provided discretionary funds are still available."

He winced at the words because it all sounded ridiculously implausible. Surely General Plo would demand more explanation as to _why_ the clone commander was so keen on spending the night in a pleasure-house on Nar Shaddaa.

Indeed, there was a long pause that did not bode well, then he heard the Jedi's voice again, steady as ever. _"As I told you before you set out, your resources for this mission are unlimited, Commander. My main concern is that your cover is secure. I don't want you risking yourself needlessly."_

If Wolffe hadn't known any better, he would have _sworn _there was the faintest trace of teasing in the otherwise staid general's voice, but it must have been the namana still affecting him. Speaking of which. "Sir, in the interest of full-disclosure, I should tell you that I...I have a-"

_Kriffing hell, man,_ he thought._ Just say it! _

"_Wolffe?"_

He swallowed. "I've made a contact, sir."

Another pause, this time making his stomach sink. When the general spoke again, there was no hint of emotion in his voice at all, which was a little unsettling. "_One of the workers?"_

_Shab. Shab. Shab._ "Yes, sir." _Fek, _he may as well go for broke. "My contact informed me about Scota's presence tonight, and is providing me with a...reason for an overnight stay." He nearly added the bit about the namana massage, then decided that he'd said enough to suffice. More than, probably.

There was yet _another _pause, then finally the Jedi said:_ "Understood, Commander. I'll collect a few squads and wait for your signal; once you have more information regarding Scota's presence in the building, inform me at once."_

"Yes, sir." Was that it? Wolffe wasn't a Jedi, of course, but he'd thought for sure he'd hear something about not letting his guard down or neglecting his duty, or...kriff, _something. _

He certainly wasn't prepared for General Plo's next words.

"_Thank you for all of your hard work, Commander," _the Jedi said, his tone a bit lighter than Wolffe had heard it in some time. _"I know that you were not pleased to be called away from your troops, but I see that you have proven yourself more than capable of handling this challenge, as I knew you would be."_

Though the words were pleasant, their subtext felt like an added blow to his already guilty conscience. Even though passive guilt-trips weren't really the Jedi Master's way, Wolffe's stomach sank a little, because if there was one person in the galaxy he didn't want to disappoint, it was his General. "Er...thank you, sir."

But the Jedi continued as if he'd not spoken, and his next words revealed that yes, the commander had misread the subtext. _"I trust you, Wolffe. Your hard work and loyalty are appreciated, but also I want you to understand that there is no shame in...recreation, upon occasion and in moderation."_

Before he could even rattle off a perfunctory 'yessir,' the link faded and Wolffe was left staring at the interior of the comm-booth, which was covered in graffiti, and he stood for a few minutes, attempting to wrap his mind around what he'd just heard.

Plo Koon had never kept his fondness for his troops a secret, which Wolffe found heartening, even if he couldn't share the same positive attitude all the time. In truth, it was General Plo's constant, positive reinforcement that kept the commander from being even more bitter than he was now, especially in the aftermath of Abregado, where he'd lost so many men, not to mention Khorm, when he'd lost his eye.

But he'd never, _ever _thought that General Plo would be _fine_ with him spending the night in a pleasure-house, with an unlimited amount of credits at his disposal. Not just fine..._approving_.

Maybe. Or maybe the commander was reading too much into it. It was likely the Jedi had far more pressing matters on his plate than Wolffe's personal life, and really, a few thousand creds – or however much the room would cost – was probably a drop in the bucket that held the Republic's vast resources.

All that mattered was that he had his mission and he had the means to carry it out, and as he slipped out of the comm-booth and made his way back to House Ambrosia, he did not wonder at the lightness of his steps.

_No shame in recreation. _

The mission was waiting, but so was Ava, and his pace quickened.

* * *

Everything was as ready as it was going to be.

Even so, Ava looked around the room one last time, checking – as she always did – that it was set up to House Ambrosia's standards, though she knew that such a thing rarely mattered to a client beyond that first glance. But first impressions were everything, and even though she knew perfectly well that she'd have Silver-and-Gold – Wolffe – too occupied to care how nicely the pillows on the bed were arranged or that the lighting was set at the perfect dimness...ostensibly, she had a job to do.

Besides, she had to find some way to occupy her time while he made his comm-call; she had to do something, _anything_, to direct the fluttering, anticipatory energy that had collected in her belly, because otherwise she'd lose her fragging mind.

Well, that was a hyperbole, but she was too anxious to care overmuch.

As she smoothed out the bedspread again, Ava forced herself to take a breath and _relax_, because she was acting foolish. What in the void was there to be anxious about? She was about to spend the night – or at least the next several hours – with a beautiful, sexy man who'd only given her a taste of all that she thought he was capable of; she was in her element, completely. This was a dance whose steps she knew so well, she could do them in her sleep. Not that there was any fun in _that_, but...sometimes, in the mornings, when she was drowsy and still not quite awake, and there was a warm body next to her own-

The sound of the door sliding open made her look up to see Ouzo enter the room. He shut the door behind him and glanced around for a moment before looking back at her, and she knew what he was seeing: a small but plush room with little ornamentation but a bed, a nightstand, and a few rugs along the hardwood floor; there was a 'fresher off to one side that contained the usual necessities, including a minibar. Everything in this room, including the Zeltron woman, was meant to cater to a client's every need, at least for a little while.

"Looks good," he said with a nod to her. "I'm sure the Human will approve."

She tried to keep her shrug casual without _looking _like it was an effort to do so when her heart had started beating just a smidgen faster at the mere mention of Wolffe. "I hope so."

There was something in Ouzo's right hand, but she couldn't make out what it was; before she could ask, he cleared his throat and crossed his arms before his chest. "What are you doing?"

"My job."

He gave her a dark look. "You know what I mean. Khaz and Sylphy told me that he wanted nothing to do with them, but the minute you showed back up, he was _quite_ interested_._ And before her shift ended, Iolite mentioned hearing the two of you in the spa."

Ava didn't answer, instead bending to smooth away an imaginary wrinkle in the cream-colored bedspread. A moment later, Ouzo sighed and added: "Look, I'm sure he's fun and all, but you're taking up all of his attention, which means that the rest of us aren't getting any of his creds."

"That's none of your business," she replied as she fluffed the pillows again.

"It's _completely_ my business," he retorted, stepping across the room to approach her. "It's _not _your business, remember?" She refused to look at him, so he sighed. "Mel, I'm sure if you talk to Sinopé, she'll work out something with your contract, but for now...you're hurting the rest of us."

Now Ava gave him a glare. "He's _one_ man, Ouzo. One client. It's not a big deal."

The Twi'lek's arm lifted to indicate the space around them. "We're not exactly busy right now, what with all those Republic agents sniffing around the Undercity, not to mention the kriffing Wars that take up everyone's time _and_ money. One client who's willing to spend both here is a rarity right now, and an opportunity that no one should have to pass up."

Anger flared within her, but she pushed it aside, seeking out the cool place of indifference she'd learned to cultivate over the long years of her short life. It worked – kind of. "Then it's a good thing he's spending the night, isn't it?" she shot back. "At least _one_ of us is enough to hold his attention. Better some creds than none at all."

"If Sinopé finds out how much money you're costing her-"

Ava folded her arms across her chest and gave him her best approximation of one of Wolffe's scowls. "If Sinopé finds out, I'll get a fine and a slap on the wrist," she said, watching his eyes tighten. "But in any case, it's _none_ of your business, Ouzo."

When he did not reply after a beat, she spoke again, hoping to change the subject. "What's that?"

She nodded to the item in his hand, that she could now see was a folded piece of flimsi. The Twi'lek shrugged and passed it to her. "You got a message. Looks like another love letter. You have your share of admirers, don't you?"

A quick scan of the note made her stomach drop to her knees, but thankfully was able to keep her expression indifferent. "Thanks, Ouzo," she said, glancing up at him and offering one of her nicer smiles. "Are you here all night?"

"Yeah, I'm working a double shift," he replied, returning her smile with a smaller version. The tone of his voice was also easier, now, and she sighed inwardly with relief. Ouzo was a nice, uncomplicated guy; once he'd said his mind, he rarely held a grudge.

"Your mismatched man stepped outside to make a call," he added, thumbing to the door. "Want me to send him here if he comes back?"

_If _he comes back. The word made her throat go a little dry but she pushed through her apprehension and smiled at the Twi'lek again. "That's okay. I'll be right out."

The moment that Ouzo was gone, she glanced down at the note again; it appeared to be a poorly crafted love-note in Basic, but she was quite familiar with Jurma's methods of contacting her while she was on a job like this. It was a necessary ruse to insure that her cover was not blown, either to Sinopé or any of Ava's coworkers, and she was able to suss out the meaning immediately.

_Republic agents have been sighted on your level; inform me at once if you come across any._

Old news, by now. Still, it was official: the parameters of her assignment had changed, and if she withheld anything from Jurma now, she'd be disobeying a direct order from her owner. Unlike others of the species, Jurma the Hutt didn't have seemingly infinite stores of credits or spice, but she was not without power because she hoarded something that was far more valuable: information. Bonded servants – oh, hell, _slaves _– like Ava were one of her best methods for collecting such a thing, and Ava knew well the punishment for coming between a Hutt and her desires.

There was probably still time to work all of this out; maybe she could lead Wolffe back here, then excuse herself to "freshen up" while she made contact with her owner in order to turn him in. If she played him right – perhaps even influenced him with her pheromones – she could leave him breathless with anticipation and blinded by lust, and he would never be the wiser...until Jurma's agents were taking him into their custody.

She had no clue exactly what Jurma would do with a captured soldier, but she knew that the Hutts generally had no love for the Republic, and that if Wolffe was some sort of special-ops fellow, there would probably be someone, on some side of this War, willing to pay for his retrieval.

Dead or alive.

Outside of this room, outside of House Ambrosia, there were constant battles taking place. She rarely watched the HoloNet, but she knew that people – mostly nameless, faceless clone soldiers – were dying all across the galaxy, but even that was nothing new, not really. People died all the time, whether or not there was a War to kill them. Life was short and all that.

If the Separatists offered enough money to persuade Jurma to hand him over to them, they'd probably torture him – surely he had valuable information of his own – and strong as he seemed to be, she didn't know how long he'd last against such treatment. Probably a while, if his scar was any indication. He seemed like a man who could take one hell of a beating.

Ava looked back at the note and imagined Wolffe's gold eye growing dim as his life ebbed. The silver one, she thought, would remain bright and shining, even as his body cooled, but she knew from experience that there was no real light in the eyes of a dead man.

A chime sounded, pulling her thoughts back to the only thing that mattered: the present.

There was a choice laid before her, but she didn't want to face it right now. The noise indicated that someone had entered House Ambrosia's front door, so Ava tore the note into a dozen tiny pieces, flushed them down the toilet, and slipped out of the room.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! :) _

_Next time: lovemaking and chocolate...two of life's greatest joys. _


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

_I can't change the way you feel,  
But I can put my arms around you.  
That's just part of the deal,  
That's the way I feel.  
I'll put my arms around you._

~Massive Attack, "Protection."

* * *

When Wolffe entered House Ambrosia again, it was if no time had passed.

It was cool and quiet here. None of Nar Shaddaa seemed to reach the interior of this place; there were no windows and his steps across the glossy, marbled atrium were the only sounds he could pick up at first, though he remembered hearing some kind of music, before.

Naturally, his mind cast itself back to the sauna, when everything had been all heat and breathlessness as he held Ava in his arms.

The male Twi'lek was leaning across the front desk, his eyes flickering over the screen before him in the manner of one who was bored, and as Wolffe approached, the Twi'lek glanced his way. "Welcome back, sir," he said, straightening. "Will you be spending the evening with us?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Just a room, or would you like any additional services?"

Wolffe bit back a frown. "Just the room."

Green _lekku _twitched as if in agitation, but the male's voice was still professional. "Forgive me, sir, but we do have a wide selection of our staff who are available to keep you company, should you desire."

Ava was nowhere to be seen, but Wolffe well remembered her words about her job here; she was only a hostess, and he had no wish to jeopardize her position. "I'm aware of that," he replied as politely as he could. "But I'd just like a room for the night."

There was a pause, then the Twi'lek cleared his throat. "Melusiné is a valued hostess," he said in a measured voice. "But she is _only _a hostess; her services do not extend beyond guiding our guests through House Ambrosia and ensuring their general comfort. However, we have others whose talents are more specifically geared to-"

A flash of alarm moved through Wolffe, but he kept it at bay. "I understand," he broke in. "That's all been made very clear, but I'd still just like a room."

The Twi'lek's mouth opened, but Wolffe was done with this conversation, so he regarded the other male as if he were one of the more insolent shinies and added: "If it's a problem, I can take my business elsewhere."

"Of course not, sir," the Twi'lek replied, glancing at the screen as he began to enter data on the keyboard before him; a moment later he pulled out a piece of glossy flimsi from the desk and offered it to Wolffe. "I have you down for one room; no company. However, should you change your mind, here are a few choices – similar to Melusiné – that are available to you."

It was a brochure of some kind, with pictures and brief descriptions of a selection of Humanoid females, none of which was Ava. As Wolffe pretended to study the flimsi, he considered trying to bribe the Twi'lek for his cooperation and just be done with it all, then immediately shucked the thought away as being unethical. He was doing nothing wrong; she was choosing to be with him of her own free will, though he did want to spare her any unpleasant consequences if he could.

_Until you arrest Scota and bring this whole place to a grinding halt,_ he thought. That was true enough, and he realized that what concerns he had would be irrelevant once the GAR had Sinopé Scota in custody. What would happen to Ava, then? The thought of her being displaced because of his mission was...unpleasant, but he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do.

In the meantime, though, he wanted to keep suspicion off her as much as possible, so he glanced back at the Twi'lek. "Thanks for this," he said, holding up the brochure. "A lot of...interesting options. I may take you up on them, later."

The Twi'lek looked satisfied, which made Wolffe relax a bit more. "It's our policy to have overnight guests leave a deposit for a room," the green-skinned male said in a smooth voice. "If you do choose to receive any other services, they will be settled upon your departure."

Wolffe produced the credit-chip and watched as it was scanned. He caught a glimpse of the price for the room – Ava hadn't been kidding about it being expensive – and found himself wondering how much men paid to spend their time with her. Not this job, she'd said, but the implication was that it had been so in the past.

He wondered if the understanding should have bothered him more than it did. Maybe. Admittedly, he disliked the idea that other men had touched her, but it was a foolish feeling to retain about anyone, let alone someone found in a place like this. Besides, he didn't really believe that he had any true claim to her.

One way or another, his mission would be over in a few hours and they would part ways, likely forever. It was expected and necessary. Neither of their lives allowed for freedom to do more. He had his job; she had hers. Better to enjoy one another while they could then fret about a future no one could change.

No matter how much he'd like to.

"Mr. Dorin."

The sound of her voice brushed away most of his thoughts; he turned and saw her emerge from the curtain where she'd appeared before. Much to his annoyance – _does she ever listen?_ – Ava was still barefoot, though her dress was different and her hair had been dried and combed, and the look in her eyes sent a flash of anticipation through his body that chased away everything else.

He inclined his head but said nothing as the Twi'lek handed him the credit-chip. Ava paused, then took a few steps towards him, her eyes still on his. "Will you be joining us for the night?"

When he nodded, her answering smile was wide and completely genuine, and it made his breath catch a little. "Lucky us," she said, extending her hand. "Let me show you to your room."

Out of the corner of his eye, the Twi'lek's head shook once, slightly, then the green-skinned male turned back to his console, as if trying to tune them out. But Wolffe had little concern for the other male once his hand was in Ava's and she was leading him through the corridors. He could feel the heat of her, even through his glove, and he watched as her hips swayed with each step; now he knew for certain that it was for his benefit, so he allowed his eyes to fall across her with appreciation.

While he wasn't exactly sure how pheromones worked, he allowed his own desire to elevate, wondering if she'd pick up on it. He must have done something right, for the moment they turned a corner and were alone, she paused and looked back at him over her shoulder. "You're a fast learner, aren't you?"

"I'm a lot of things," he said, squeezing her hand. "A few of which I'd like to show you."

"Only a few?"

A smile nearly crossed his face at her teasing tone, but he schooled himself and allowed only a serious expression. "More than that, if you ask nicely."

Ava smiled enough for both of them and her eyes were alight with happiness at his words. "I'm not very good at asking," she said as she continued walking, a little faster than before. "But for you, I'll try to get better."

"I can live with that."

She laughed but said nothing, instead tugging his hand along, urging him down a corridor he'd not yet been. Obliging her – and himself – he let his pace quicken, and they turned another corner and came to a long, carpeted hallway, softly lit by sconces along the walls between a series of nondescript doors. Ava led him to the very end of the corridor, then released his hand to enter a lock-code on the panel beside the door. It slid open silently and she stepped inside. Wolffe followed; once he was inside, she locked the door behind them.

It was a nice room, he thought. Overly ornate, but that was a norm when one operated in civilian environments. There was warm lighting that had little purpose other than to make the room look pretty, a thick rug that muted his steps, and a bed. A big one. And she'd taken his hand again and was leading him to it.

Ava smiled at him as she paused at the foot of the bed and began to tug off his gloves, working the material off of his fingers before dropping the gloves to the floor. "I want you to touch me, everywhere," she said, glancing up a him. "Will you?"

At her heated look, Wolffe's heart rate kicked into a higher gear. The urge to kiss her, to embrace her, to strip her down and have his way with her filled him utterly, and for a moment he was taken aback at the intensity of the feelings. As before, in the sauna, he wanted _Ava_, all of her, and he wanted her _now._

A deep breath helped him regain a measure of control, allowed him to _think_. There was no namana muddling his thoughts this time, but could all of that _desire _he felt really be his own? Was it her influence? He didn't know, but he had to, so rather than answer her question he asked one of his own. "Are you doing that?"

She'd been working at his belt buckle, but at his words she blinked at him in confusion. "Doing what?"

_Kriffing hell. _He took a deep breath and bent to collect his gloves and his thoughts; when he looked back at her, her eyes were uncertain and a little worried. "Influencing me," he said, tucking the gloves in his pocket. "With your pheromones. I feel...well, it's not like it was after the namana, but it's pretty close."

As he spoke, he wondered if she'd be offended, but apparently he needn't have worried. Ava's answering smile was not as wide, but it was still genuine, and she moved away from him to take a seat on the bed. Her legs hung off the side as she leaned back on her hands and regarded him. "Nope. Whatever you're feeling is all you."

"But you have the ability," he said as he looked around the room again. Damn; he hadn't had a chance to scan for anything of note, but he didn't want to risk it now that she was here.

"That's true," she nodded. "But I'm not doing it, right now. It's-" she paused, her head tilting as if searching for the right word. "-more enjoyable, for both of us, if I don't. Some Zellies can do it so well, they can make a person do pretty much whatever they want without anyone being the wiser, but it's a skill that takes time to hone."

Her legs crossed, giving him a healthy view of her thigh, but she continued speaking normally. "It's like singing: some are born with a nice voice, and they can practice and practice until they can sing even better; others have with a nice voice, but they lack the drive to practice, so their skill remains the same."

"But it's still better than not being able to sing at all," he said, coming to sit beside her. "You have an advantage." His added weight made the bed shift and she slid towards him a bit, so he reached his hand out to hold her in place.

However, she only shifted closer to him, so he could feel the warmth of her skin through her dress, which didn't cover very much of her at all. A moment later she turned, settling her calves across his lap.

"You'd know if I was influencing you," she said as she met his eyes again. Her brow lifted and she scooted forward so that her knees and upper thighs were lying across him, now. "Subtlety isn't my strong suit."

"Oh, I've noticed," he replied resting a hand on her thigh and squeezing gently.

She gave him another smile, then her expression turned just a little bit pensive. "Would you like to know how it feels?"

Wolffe was a soldier, and a damn good one, but he'd not gotten to such a place by skill alone. His instincts, so he'd been told, were pretty sharp, and right now a quiet warning was pinging in his mind. _You don't know her that well, _it whispered. _You are on a mission, in enemy territory. You cannot afford to trust too much._

So he shook his head. "I think I got a taste of it earlier, with the namana."

Something flashed across her face; he was startled to see that it was relief, but before he could do anything more than note the expression, she was smiling at him again and reaching for the front of his shirt. "Speaking of tasting," she said as she undid the buttons with agile fingers. "You have a problem with wearing too much clothing. It gets in my way."

He thought of his armor and chuckled, which drew her eyes up to his. "Be glad it's not my normal get-up," he said to her bemused look. "Usually there's a lot more involved."

"Then it's my lucky day," she replied, smoothing the fabric away from his chest and shoulders. She studied his body for a moment then, to his surprise, gave a low whistle of appreciation that made his blood beat faster in his veins. "Kriffing hell, you're beautiful."

"_Handsome_," he told her, shaking his head in mock-admonishment. "Women are beautiful; men are handsome."

She giggled, a purely feminine sound that made his already-rushing blood hurry to very specific areas. "Oh, I knew there was a reason I liked you. You're very open-minded for a Human."

"Open-minded...?" It took him a second to catch her meaning; when he did, he pulled a face and she giggled harder. "That's _not _what I meant, and you know it."

At her answering laugh, he reached up and brushed his hand along her cheek, savoring the soft curve and the way she leaned into his touch, then he pulled her closer and kissed her mouth. Like before, Ava opened herself to him eagerly, allowing him to taste sweetness and spice, and a few minutes later the shirt was discarded on the floor, followed by his boots, belt, and everything else, including her dress.

Also as before, she was nude beneath the garment, and while her skin was just as warm, this time he could tell that her body was reacting normally and not being pushed past its limits by the overwhelming heat of the sauna. There was a brief pause while she pulled another synth-skin condom out of the nightstand; once it was on, they turned their attention back to each other.

They only had a little time, but he intended to make the most of it.

Since he was more in control of his faculties this time, Wolffe was determined to show her that he was not without his own measure of skill in this arena, though he knew her experience far outweighed his own. But it didn't matter.

Soon Ava was beneath him, whimpering his name and pleading with him for more even as she seemed to delight in everything he was already giving her; she made it very clear how much each touch, each kiss, each movement of his body was appreciated and welcome, which further incited his ardor, pushing the tide of his desire higher and higher until it became a cresting wave that was building within him, waiting to crash over them both.

And still, she begged him for _more. _

When they found their release, it was together, again. For a few breathless seconds his mind was completely blank as his body emptied itself inside of hers, which was tightening around him, surrounding him with heat. As his head cleared, he looked down and felt a flare of pride at the way her face was flushed and her eyes were closed as she collected herself, still reeling from her release.

"I don't know where you came from, Wolffe," she managed after a moment, opening her eyes to look into his. "But I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he replied, and he meant it.

* * *

Some time later all of Ava's careful work at tidying the room had been completely undone: the bedspread had long since been torn from its place on the mattress, the pillows had scattered to the floor and she had no idea where any of their clothes were, but she didn't care in the slightest.

They were lying on top of the sheets that had remained unscathed; her head was pillowed on his chest and his arm was curled around her with his hand resting on her hip, holding her in place with a gentleness that should not have surprised her by now. Sated as she was, Ava had only a meager sense of how much time had passed, having stopped keeping track pretty much the moment they'd entered the room, but she'd seen him glance at his chrono during a few of the less frenzied moments.

Still, she remembered Sinopé's impending arrival, and wondered if that's what he was thinking of, too, so she glanced up at him, only to see that he was watching her. "What time is it?" she asked.

He answered immediately; it wasn't as late as she'd thought. Not for the first time during the past few hours did she feel relief that he'd turned down her "offer" of being influenced by her pheromones; she knew it was a cowardly, fatalistic way to have reached her decision, but she was still relieved, for his sake if not her own.

Ava sighed and leaned up to brush a kiss on his lips. "Are you hungry? The cooking-droid's probably offline for the night, but we could raid the minibar."

"What's in the minibar?"

She tried not to smile at the wariness in his words. "Nothing healthy or practical. Mostly snacks and alcohol. There's no ale, though...oh, kriff!"

This made him move so that he was almost upright, the motion completely disturbing her position even as his entire body suddenly seemed strung with tension. "What's wrong?"

She sighed as she tried to adjust. "I never got you another ale. Some hostess I am."

He stared at her for a second, then ducked his head in a laugh he was trying to hide, and leaned back against the bed, pulling her close and speaking into her ear. "Ah. Well, I think I can let the infraction slide. Just this once."

"So magnanimous," she replied, shivering at the feel of his breath on her skin. "Well, aside from that, I hope you've gotten your money's worth."

All traces of teasing left his voice. "I paid for the room, Ava, not for...you."

"Maybe not," she said with the best shrug she could manage, lying down and in his arms. "But you may as well have."

There was a weighted pause, during which she turned to look at him; his expression was as inscrutable as his emotions, and she felt a flare of warning, but ignored it. "I had a choice, today," she said, facing him fully. "But it certainly won't stay that way. I know I seem...silly, but I'm really a very practical girl. I like you; you're nice and you seem to like me, too, but this-" she placed the flat of her hand on his chest and felt his heart quicken. "-isn't anything that will last. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that," he said, a faint scowl crossing his face even as he set his hand on the curve of her hip again.

"It was wonderful to be able to choose you," she added as she trailed her fingertips up to his face, enjoying the feel of his stubble against her skin. "But it's only temporary. There's some old saying about ships passing in the night, but I can't think of the exact wording."

"Maybe, but I still don't like it when you talk about yourself like that."

"Like what?"

His scowl deepened, making his scar appear even more jagged. "Like you have no worth except what someone assigns to you."

"I'm a slave," she replied, shrugging. "That's the way it goes when you're expendable."

But he was shaking his head. "You're not expendable, Ava. Your life is valuable."

She smiled at him. "Saying it with such conviction doesn't make it true, you know."

Neither one of them spoke for a moment, then she sat up and slid out of bed, making her way to the 'fresher. When she was finished, she rooted around in the minibar for a moment, gathering an assortment of food and drink, then returned to the bed, where he was fiddling with the ring he wore on his right finger.

It wasn't a wedding band – not that it would have mattered to her – but it looked out-of-place on his hand, like he wasn't accustomed to wearing jewelry of any kind. A token from a lover, perhaps? She didn't think so. Given his enthusiasm of minutes ago, she thought he was a man who'd not touched a woman in some time, though she'd been pleased to discover that he had some knowledge of what he was doing. Virgins were exciting and all, but it was nice to be with someone who knew his way around a woman's body.

"Alright," she said as she began to arrange the food and drink on the bed in a makeshift picnic. "We've got chilled wine, water, _kolla, _some kind of fancy cheese from Cato Nemoidia, crackers, warra-nuts, gourmet honey-sticks, and my favorite."

His eyes had grown a little wide at the array she'd set before him, and he'd sat up in order to take it all in. However, her last word made him glance at her. "What's your favorite?"

_You, all the way. _Ava grinned and held up a small, foil-wrapped package. "Chocolate. It's really rare, but sweet Force, I promise you've never tasted anything so delicious in your entire life."

"Hmm," he said, studying her. "That remains to be seen."

Even though she knew it was impossible, Ava could have sworn she saw _both_ of his eyes, the silver and the gold, gleaming with amusement and desire; much to her surprise, heat crept to her cheeks, both at his words and at the faint, teasing smile he'd offered as he said them. She smiled back and they began to eat.

Only after she'd consumed more than her fair share of the meal did she realized how hungry she was, and a glance at him showed that he, too, had a healthy appetite, and for a few minutes everything felt oddly...peaceful. The word _domestic_ fluttered through her thoughts, but she didn't allow it to remain because there was no place for such a thing, here.

They saved the chocolate for last. When they'd finished the meal and cleaned up, she nestled beside him in the bed once more and set the package on his chest, which was nearly flat as they both reclined. "This is what will happen," she said as she tore through the foil. "You'll take a small bite at first, just to taste, and it will be the most delicious, sweet, lovely thing you've ever put in your mouth, including me."

"We'll see about that," he replied as she peeled back the wrapper to reveal the little, dark squares, each imprinted with House Ambrosia's swirling, floral logo.

Ava chuckled and broke off a small section, holding it up between them as she continued. "Once you get a taste, you'll want to gobble it up, but before you know it, it will be gone and you'll only have an empty wrapper."

As she spoke, the chocolate bobbed in her hand with the movement of her body, and his eyes followed its progress. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked at last, glancing her way. "Hand it over. This stuff sounds pretty good."

But she ignored him, instead moving the chocolate through the air in an exaggerated circle, trying to get his eyes to follow it again and thinking that he seemed younger now, much younger than he appeared. Again she found herself wondering how old he really was.

After a moment he caught onto her game, for he rolled his eyes as she grinned and continued. "My suggestion is that you should let it melt in your mouth and savor every moment. Make it last as long as you can."

"I'd love to," he replied in a dry voice while his eyes continued to follow the candy's path, as if he couldn't help himself. "But you have to give me a chance."

In response, she held the chocolate to his mouth; his lips parted and she slipped it between them, then watched his expression as he worked it around his mouth with his tongue. At first he seemed doubtful, then his eyes widened and he seemed to have to work very hard to withhold a smile of delight.

"Good, isn't it?"

Wolffe glanced at her; his mouth still appeared to be full, so he didn't answer, but he gave a nod that made her laugh and reach to break off another portion for herself. After a moment, he swallowed and leveled her with a long, speculative look. "Very good," he said, his head nodding slowly. "But not nearly as delicious as _Ava_. Not even close."

He added a kiss on her forehead that made her heart swell, because it was such a casual, sweet gesture that he did seemingly without thinking, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for someone to kiss her like that. Like he...cared for her.

It was a thought that should not have bothered her like it did, so she tried to ignore it and focused on him again, offering him another piece of chocolate. However, he did not accept it immediately; instead he looked at her, giving her the impression that he could see straight through to her thoughts. "Are you alright? You look a little uneasy."

_Get it together, _she told herself. _Enjoy the moment while it's here, and don't look back after it passes._ But as she looked at him, she realized that the words that had served her so well in the past rang hollow, now.

Ava took a breath and nodded, then gave him a smile as she tried to hand him the chocolate. "I'm wonderful."

He didn't seem to believe her; his head shook and he ignored the treat in her hand and continued to study her intently. "No, something's bothering you." A worried look crossed his face and he skimmed a fingertip across her cheek. "You're _sure _I didn't hurt you? We got a little...adventurous that last time."

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied lightly. Hoping to conceal her sudden flare of unease, she added a teasing grin that usually made men want to stop thinking and kiss her.

But Wolffe regarded her for a long moment, as if debating something, then he sighed. "Then will you do something for me?"

This made her laugh outright, though she began to gather the remainder of the chocolate to set it aside. "Happily, but we've covered quite a lot of ground tonight. What else were you thinking of?"

"No...I mean-" Force, he blushed again, and her apprehension faded away at once with the sight of his flushing skin. Finally he sighed again and met her eyes. "Your smile...the real one. Will you show it to me again, please?"

_The real one. _Ava froze in place. She had no idea what to say to the request; no one had ever asked such a thing of her before and she knew at once that no one ever would. _I was right, _she thought as she set the chocolate on the nightstand and tried to formulate a response. _You are dangerous for me. You are nothing but trouble. _

_I would like to get used to you, though. _

Which was a problem.

But he was waiting for an answer, so she gave him one. "If you show me yours," she said, turning back to him and arching a brow. "I'll show you mine. Deal?"

To her surprise, he obliged her immediately. His was a smile that she thought did not often see the light of day, but it was so genuine that it plucked a chord deep within her heart. It was a rare thing, Wolffe's smile, and she felt like he was giving her something precious, and all she'd had to do was ask. As quickly as it had come it faded, but his expression retained a measure of its softness.

"Your turn," he murmured. The baritone edges of his accented voice resonated in what little space there was between them.

It should have taken her a moment to find the joyful place inside of her that would allow for a true smile, because she was feeling out-of-sorts from this entire day. However, when Ava looked into his eyes – the gleaming, silver and the burning gold – a smile instantly blossomed across her face, pulled from somewhere deep within her heart and drawn to him, inexorably.

The answering smile he gave her was even better than before, perhaps because it was unexpected. "Yes, that's the one," he said, his voice filled with affection. "Thank you, Ava."

No one had ever thanked her, not really. Not like this.

No one would again.

The world – no, the galaxy – was richer for this man. _That's it, _she thought as the realization swept over her. _I'm done for. _

_But I don't care._

As it had before, in the sauna, everything fell away from her but one desire, only it was not a purely visceral one this time. More than anything, she wanted to keep him safe, to keep him away from Jurma and the Separatists, at all costs. Ava didn't believe in much, but she wondered if there was a reason they'd been brought together, and she hoped she'd soon find out.

"You're welcome, Wolffe," she heard herself whisper, and leaned up to kiss him again.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! :)_

_Next time: secrets start to come out..._


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

_I'll stand in front of you, _

_I'll take the force of the blow._

_Protection._

~Massive Attack, "Protection."

* * *

This time it was slower.

The intensity was not less than it had been before. Rather, it was deeper, as a bed of coals that has been feeding a fire throughout the night is without flame, but holds the most heat. During the shared moments, Wolffe watched her beneath him, hoping to sear every part of _Ava_ into his memory: her lips parted in breathless supplication; the tangled fall of dark, violet hair across her face and the deep flush of pink in her cheeks; the warm press of her hands against his back, always pulling him closer; his name in her voice, again and again.

Ava's eyes, pale-violet, gazed up at him as if she was also trying to memorize each moment. It made him want to kiss her, more.

So he did.

When they were together, it was easy to forget everything else and just exist, and it was enough. But he knew it wouldn't last.

After, when their heartbeats were steadying and she was in his arms, he wondered how much time they had before Scota showed up, and he considered how he could ask without giving anything away. He thought she sensed something was amiss, for she still seemed a little troubled, but he had no wish to involve her any more than he had already, so he tried to keep his feelings to himself and just enjoy the time they were sharing.

Well, he _tried_, but a glance at his chrono told him that it was growing later. Wolffe was all-too aware that they was hurtling towards an end to this experience, and while a part of him was ready – as he always was – to do his job, another part of him regretted that his mission would be over soon.

It was a larger part than he cared to admit.

A soft touch against his face made him glance at her; nestled beside him, she was studying him with eyes that gleamed with intelligence and curiosity, right along with the banked passion that was purely _Ava_. Her fingertips skimmed his temple, parallel to his scar and he sensed a question behind the feather-touch.

"It's okay," he told her, smoothing out her tangled hair. "You can touch me, anywhere."

She smiled at the innuendo but didn't comment on it, instead only tracing the ugly, jagged outline with her the tip of her index finger. "What happened?"

Wolffe debated, then decided there was no harm in telling her. "Do you know who Asajj Ventress is?"

Ava's head shook and he held her a little closer, savoring the warmth of her body as he recalled Khorm's chill. "I was on a...mission to a planet called Khorm. My...allies and I ran afoul of the Sith woman. She gave me this, and took away my eye."

"What's a Sith?" Now, her hand was resting on his cheek. She was so warm.

He paused, thinking, and she regarded him with interest. "Have you heard of the Jedi?" When she nodded, he continued. "A Sith is like...a Jedi, but dark. Evil."

"I thought Jedi were good," Ava said, her brow furrowing.

Wolffe nodded and kissed her forehead absently as he explained. "They are, but there are other Force-users out there who are not Jedi. Some of them are evil. Some of them are Sith."

At his kiss she shivered, though her voice was calm. "And this 'Ventress' person was one of them."

"Right."

Ava's body went tense for one moment, then she took a deep breath and looked at him. "Why were you on Khorm? Was it on a mission for the Republic?"

Ice ran through his veins and he swallowed as he met her eyes. There was the curiosity he'd seen, the fire that was within her that was passion and intelligence alike, and he wondered if she'd seen through him from the start.

Idly, he wondered if maybe, on some level, he'd wanted her to.

"Yes," he said at last, nodding once.

Her expression did not change. Instead, she touched his scar one more time, then dropped her hand and leaned her head against his chest. "You're military, and you're with the Republic. You're here for Sinopé, aren't you?"

Wolffe frowned. "That's-"

"-the truth," she finished, turning her lips to his chest and kissing once, gently. "Isn't it?"

When she looked at him again, he found he couldn't lie; it wasn't within him to be anything but forthright, and again he lamented that he'd been the one that the GAR had sent on this mission when he was not cut out for such a task as deception. "Yeah," he replied. "You're right about all three of those things. How did you know?"

To his surprise, she gave him a smile; it was real, but it was a little sadder than any he'd seen. "I know I don't look like it, but I really do pay attention."

He felt a flash of chagrin. "Ava, I didn't mean to-"

"You act like a military man," she continued, dropping another kiss against his chest. "Wary, but prepared. Everything about you – your clothes, your facial hair, even the way you move – screams it. I thought you might be CorSec, but no Corellian man would be as unfamiliar with a pleasure-house as you are. Besides, your accent is all wrong for a Corellian."

_Kriff. _He hadn't thought to try and alter his accent; it hadn't occurred to him. "How'd you know I was Republic?"

She actually rolled her eyes. "You guys have been crawling all over the Undercity for weeks, now. If you were a Separatist, there'd be no reason for you to sneak in here for Sinopé, and like I said, you didn't strike me as CorSec."

"So you know why I'm here."

Ava nodded, then rested her cheek on his chest, still regarding him. "I knew that you didn't come here because you wanted to; from the moment I saw you, I knew you were a man on a mission. There's only one reason for a Republic agent to come to House Ambrosia on a mission, and her name is Sinopé Scota."

Worse and worse. Something hard and heavy and cold formed in his gut, giving him the feeling that he'd swallowed handfuls of stones. "What else do you know about me?"

When she smiled at him this time, it was as dazzling an expression as he'd ever seen. "Aside from all that? Not much, I guess, besides things you wouldn't want your mother to know."

Of course, Wolffe had no mother, and he wondered if she didn't know he was a clone; he'd always thought that his face – scar and cybernetic eye notwithstanding – meant that he and his brothers were recognizable to everyone in the galaxy, but surely she'd have mentioned it, if she knew.

He wasn't sure why he liked the idea of her not knowing. Instead, he brushed her hair out of her face and pulled her closer so that he could kiss her cheek. "Believe it or not, _this_ wasn't supposed to happen," he said as he studied her. "I was only going to get a massage and try to investigate in the meantime."

"I'm very talented with getting people to do things they don't plan to," she replied lightly. "It's why I'm so good at my job."

"I thought you said you were a terrible hostess?" The situation was rapidly spiraling out of his control, so he tried to tease her and bring back at least a semblance of calm.

But the smile she offered in return was not a real one. "I can help you."

Wolffe frowned at her. "Help with...what, exactly?"

"You're here for Sinopé," Ava said in a light, almost-flirting voice, although her words were quite serious. "I can help you get her."

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "No way. You'd be risking too much. You're not...I mean...you're-"

"Just a whore," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Heat swept over him, embarrassment and irritation all at once. "You're not just a...whore," he managed after a moment. "But you _are_ a civilian, and I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger on my behalf."

Her eyes on him were calm and a little amused. "But you'll have sex with me even though you know it's against the rules?"

"That's different and you know it," he countered. "After the sauna, you made it very clear to me that you were not in physical danger from any rule-breaking. If I'd thought for one second that this...experience would harm you, I'd never have taken part."

"No," she said as she continued to study him. "You wouldn't have, would you?"

Wolffe shifted so that he was sitting up and she was more or less upright, nearly in his lap. "Admittedly, I got carried away in the sauna," he said as he held her eyes with his own. "But at the time, I thought that you were employed here as a sex worker and that I'd be paying for the time we spent together, later. After I learned your position, I would not have touched you again if you'd not wanted me to...but you said you _chose_ me, of your own free will. You said you wanted to be with me."

"I did." Her gaze softened. "I do."

Nodding, he touched her cheek again, smoothing a strand of her hair behind her ear as he continued. "But this – my mission – it's another level, entirely. You're right; I'm in the military. I'm trained to handle these things, and I have...allies who can assist me, if I call. But you're _not_ trained, Ava. Not for this. If you got hurt-"

She gave him that same, sad smile. "I've been hurt before. Not every blow leaves a scar."

"I can't let you endanger yourself," he said, shaking his head. "It goes against everything I was made for to place an innocent in harm's way."

"Innocent?" Her brow arched and she sat up so that they were fully facing each other. "Wolffe, any innocence I've ever had was gone a long time ago."

There was silence for a few seconds then he found his voice. "How long?"

Ava took a breath before she replied, and when she did, her voice was strange and distant. "I'm twenty-one, now. My mother sold me into slavery when I was seven. I was luckier than some, though, because the man she sold me to – another Zeltron, actually – waited to have sex with me until I was of age."

"How old was that?" He didn't want to know the answer. His blood was rushing through his veins; it was a quiet fury that was increasing with each beat, filling him with the urge to shoot something or put his fist through a wall.

She looked away, but it was only for a moment. When her eyes fell back on him, they held no fire. They were empty. "Thirteen."

Anger coursed through him at her words, though he knew it was a futile emotion, especially right now, when all of that was in the past. As he looked at her, thoughts of what else she'd experienced flickered through his mind, and he found himself warring with the feelings of being completely furious and horribly, horribly sad.

But her eyes narrowed and he saw the fire again. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you feel sorry for me," she replied as she lifted her chin. "No, I didn't choose this life, but I've got it better than a lot of people. I've never been sick, or hungry or homeless, or had to do physical labor or fight in a war, or anything like that. The worst I've had to do is spread my legs for someone I don't particularly care for. Don't you dare pity me for that."

Though her words stung a little, he noted the steel behind them. She hadn't yet hidden what she was, or indicated shame for the shape of her life; as a man who also had not been given a choice, he found he admired her for her candor. It was useless to fret over what could not be changed, like the past. He did wonder, though, what she was _not_ telling him.

Ava paused, then shook her head in the manner of someone trying to push something out of their mind. "I'm stronger than I look," she added, wrapping both of her hands around just one of his; the pink tint of her skin made her look soft and so delicate, but her grip was firm. "And I want to help you."

Perhaps she was strong, but she was made for love, not fighting. Not like he was. "Ava-"

"Please," she said, squeezing his hand. "Please, Wolffe. I want to choose, again. I want to help you. Let me help you."

For a long moment, he only looked at her. She was smaller than him, soft and sweet, but there was fire within her, fire in many forms.

Wolffe was a soldier; he'd seen enough of the galaxy to know how certain folks were treated, simply because of the way that the ones in positions of power tried to use them for their own ends. Though he held little bitterness on behalf of himself or his brothers, he had seen how they were treated as a whole by the rest of the galaxy: expendable. He knew what it was to know the icy grip of defeat and loss. Khorm had seared that lesson into his mind and his skin.

But he also knew what it could mean to have someone place faith in you, and trust that you could do more than you imagined, or anyone anticipated. Plo Koon's unwavering faith in him and his brothers was something that had warmed him even in the frigid depths of space, and continued to warm him to this day.

The soldier within him was reluctant to trust, both that Ava was really on his side, let alone the fact that she could handle what would need to be done. He hadn't known her that long, after all.

The man, though, had seen her strength and tasted her fire, and he thought that what she had told him about her past was true; he felt that she was brave, especially to have opened herself to him in this way. Ava had proven herself to be intelligent and observant, and he wondered what exactly she was capable of. He wondered if he would ever find out, and realized that he wanted to.

So he took a breath, released it, and placed his other hand over both of hers, surrounding them completely as he looked at her. "Okay," he said, pitching his voice low and serious. "You can help me. But I want you to promise that you will _listen _to me, for kriff's sake."

_Fek, _that smile of hers would be the death of him, but it'd be one hell of a way to go.

"I promise," she said, pulling her hands free and giving him a mock-salute that made him want to both sigh in irritation and kiss her senseless.

Before he could do either, however, there was an insistent rapping noise that made them both start. In the next moment, he heard the male Twi'lek's voice speaking through the door. "Mr. Dorin? I hate to disturb you, but I must speak with Melusiné at once."

Wolffe looked at her to gage her reaction; she seemed irked more than anything else. "I can probably make him go away," he murmured. "No sense in you getting in trouble."

But she only sighed and cast her eyes to the ceiling. "No, it's alright. He already knows I'm here, so I may as well just deal with him."

With that, she wrapped the sheet around her torso, slid out of bed, and strode to the door as if she hadn't a care in the world. When it opened, the green-skinned male's eyes slid across Ava in one swoop, then fell on Wolffe, who'd grabbed a pillow to cover himself. However, Ava drew his attention back her way, crossing her arms before her chest and leaning against the door frame. "What is it Ouzo?"

The Twi'lek regarded her and something inside Wolffe pinged a warning at the way the other male's eyes tightened right before he spoke. "Sinopé's here. She wants to speak with you."

"You told her."

Ava's voice was flat, and Wolffe edged forward so that his feet were on the floor; a quick mental calculation revealed that it would only take three strides before he was at Ava's side, four before he was in front of her and able to absorb any blow that came her way. Another assessment told him that he could disable the Twi'lek with a single, well-placed jab at a pressure point at the place where his _lekku _met his skull; it would be painful, but if this male intended to hurt Ava, Wolffe knew he'd do what needed to be done to prevent such a thing.

Seeing the movement, Ouzo glanced at Wolffe again; when the Human man didn't move further, he looked back at Ava. "You didn't leave me much of a choice. I tried to warn you, Mel. I really did. But you never listen."

_That's true enough, _Wolffe thought wryly.

A beat passed before Ava replied, and the easy tone of her voice told Wolffe at once that she had something in mind. "I suppose you did," she said, reaching a hand up to smooth out her tangled hair. "Alright, Ouzo. I'll go speak with her, but I need to find my clothes. Will you give me a minute?"

"Sure, Mel," the Twi'lek said, nodding as he stepped away from the door, to the hallway. He sounded relieved. "I'll wait out here. Don't take too long. She said she's only stopping by for a few minutes."

"I'll just be a moment," she replied, and there was definitely a smile in her words as she shut the door, leaving Wolffe and Ava alone again. She took a breath, then looked back at him, her eyes falling on the pillow he was holding in front of his groin before she met his gaze. When she spoke, her voice was pitched low. "You said something about your allies?"

* * *

Ava's heart was racing, but she thought she'd done a fairly decent job of keeping her cool with Ouzo, especially considering the fact that she wanted nothing more than to throttle him right now.

But she pushed that desire away and looked at Wolffe once more, trying not to smile at the way he'd moved one of the pillows to cover himself. A pity, really. It was like putting a curtain over a piece of artwork. He was looking at her with that same intensity that she'd seen, before. There was an almost savage edge to it, like any moment he'd spring into action.

"You said something about your allies?" she asked him as she stepped back his way, dropped the sheet to the ground and began to sift through the rest of the displaced bedding for their clothes.

He blinked, as if emerging from a trance. "Yeah," he said as he slid the pillow away and made to join her. "I've got a subcutaneous comlink. They're standing by; the moment I give the word, they'll make their approach."

She'd found his shirt and boxers, at least, but as she handed it to him, the words 'subcutaneous comlink' made her pause. "You mean...they could hear...?"

A part of her delighted in his blush. Third one since they'd met; she was convinced it was a record of some kind. "Er...no," he managed, unraveling her dress from one of the sheets so he could hand it to her. "It wasn't on during any of...that."

"Good to know," she said with a smile as she accepted her dress and began to slide it over her body. "So, I suppose I'll keep Sinopé busy while you call your friends?"

He frowned as he slipped on his boxers and reached for his shirt. "It shouldn't take them long to arrive, but I don't like the idea of sending you in, alone."

"It's not going to be dangerous," she replied, again trying to smooth out her tangled hair into some semblance of order. "At the worst, she'll yell at me a little bit. Sinopé's a Corellian; her bark is worse than her bite."

But he didn't appear to be convinced. "You shouldn't go in, alone. I could tell her that I offered you a lot of money to be with me. I doubt she'd do anything to harm a customer."

However, this sent a flash of apprehension though Ava; until his allies came, she wanted him to stay as far away from Sinopé as possible, just in case the Corellian recognized him as a Republic, like she had. Sinopé Scota was no fool, and while Ava had been able to keep her own machinations a secret, she didn't think that her "boss" would be fooled by Wolffe's cover story, and if it was discovered that _he _was the Republic agent that they'd been hearing about...she shivered. No, she couldn't allow that.

Since Ava was dressed, she helped him gather the rest of his clothing; as she collected his gloves, she gave him her most serious look, for whatever it was worth. "I can take care of myself, Wolffe. Believe it or not, if you come with me, it'd make things worse."

"I doubt that." His frown was deep and she could practically feel his determination roiling off of him as he replaced his pants. It was as sexy as it was annoying.

So she took a deep breath to center herself and try and convince him that she was right. "I know you want to protect me, but this is my world," she said as she passed over his belongings. "This is my arena. I know what I'm doing."

He accepted his gloves with a sigh, then seemed to debate something. A moment later he dropped the gloves in his lap, then twisted the small, metallic ring off of his finger and handed it to her. "Okay, but I'd feel better if you kept this."

As she accepted it, she had to chuckle at his earnest expression. "It's a little soon for a proposal, don't you think? I'm flattered and all, but we haven't even known each other a whole day."

Wolffe gave her a dry look. "There's an emergency transmitter signal that can be activated by pushing that little gem on the side. When it's pressed, it'll send out a signal to...my Republic friends. If something happens and I'm not there, this should lead the others to you and get you out of trouble."

Ava studied the ring; at first glance it appeared to be a plain band with a few embedded stones, but the closer she looked, she could see that it was a cleverly disguised piece of tech that was probably quite expensive. She looked up and raised a brow at him. "This is very sweet, but not necessary."

"It's not _sweet_ at all," he replied as he buttoned his shirt. "It's practical and _entirely_ necessary. If I can't be with you, this is the next best thing. Don't hesitate to use it."

It was too big for any of her fingers so she slid it down the front of her dress, tucking it between her breasts, and gave him a wide smile when he sighed and shook his head. "It'll be safe," she assured him. "Just like me."

He'd taken a seat on the bed once more to fasten his boots; at her words he paused and looked up at her, balancing his elbows on his knees. "Be careful, please."

"Of course," she replied as she stepped over so that she was standing directly before him.

Her Silver-and-Gold. Because she couldn't help herself, she skimmed her hand over his cheek, savoring the scratch of his stubble, and she wondered if this would be the last time they were ever alone. This thought sent a wave of regret through her, though for what exactly she wasn't sure, so rather than dwell on the feeling she straddled his lap and kissed him as hard as she could.

There was no hesitation in his reply; instead, he pulled her against his chest, wrapping one hand around her body and twining the other in her hair. When they parted, she knew her lips were pinker than normal and her face was flushed as his was, and she didn't care. "It will be okay," she told him, and herself. "I promise."

Wolffe studied her a moment more, then brushed her lips with his thumb; the touch was gentle but filled with intent, and she wondered if he'd done so because he'd had the same thought: this might be the last time he was able to hold her like this.

"Yeah," he said, swallowing as he met her eyes. "It will."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! :) _

_Next time: confrontations. _


	8. Chapter Eight

_FYI, there's an f-bomb in this chapter. It's the one and only time I've ever used it in a fic on this site - I think. Don't quote me on that. :P Anyway, the M-rating still holds; I just felt compelled to warn you._**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

_So I put my faith in something unknown;_

_I'm living on such sweet nothing._

_But I'm tired of hope with nothing to hold;_

_I'm living on such sweet nothing._

~Calvin Harris, "Sweet Nothing."

* * *

Once Ava was gone, Wolffe exhaled and pushed away the remainder of his doubts because he had a job to do.

No matter what she thought, there was no kriffing way he was going to leave her alone with the Corellian informant for more than a few minutes. After he alerted General Plo, Wolffe had every intention of going after Ava and placing Scota in his custody.

Earlier, when she'd been in the 'fresher, he'd had a chance to scan the room for any hidden surveillance devices. Having found none, he figured that it would be safe to contact General Plo now, so after his boots were fastened, he activated the subcutaneous comlink and waited for the link to catch.

Thankfully, it only took a moment. Plo Koon's voice in his ear made the knot of tension in Wolffe's stomach dissipate, just a little. _"Commander?"_

"Scota is in the building," he said without preamble. "But she won't be here for too long."

"_Understood. We'll begin landing procedures at once," _the Jedi replied._ "The Wolfpack and I shall see you within four minutes, Commander."_

Four minutes. It was good, but not great, but there was nothing he could do to speed up his general's arrival, so he nodded once. "Yes, sir."

There was a pause, then Plo Koon spoke again._ "You are going to detain Scota in the meantime?"_

Wolffe glanced at the door where Ava had gone, wishing again he'd gone with her right away. It was better this way, though. He'd needed to be alone when he called the Jedi, and he told himself that the less she knew about him, the safer she'd be, but he wondered if that was really true. "I have a plan, General."

"_I'm sure you do, Wolffe,"_ General Plo said, a trace of amusement in his voice. _"I'll see you in a few minutes. May the Force be with you."_

"You too, sir," Wolffe replied, then the link died.

Right. Time for action. After he was sure he had everything in place – well, he missed his blasters – he rose and headed for the door, activating the lock panel and moving to step through. Unfortunately, when the door slid open, a tall, green-skinned figure was waiting for him on the other side.

Seeing Wolffe's appearance, Ouzo gave him a glare of warning and stood directly in the clone's path, arms crossed before his broad chest and his expression challenging. He looked like he was ready for a fight.

_Oh, come on,_ Wolffe thought, rolling his eyes. The Twi'lek was muscular, but he was just a civilian. Even if Wolffe had wanted one with this fellow, it wouldn't be much of a fight, merely wasted time.

"Where are you going?"

No, the commander was definitely _not _in the mood for Ouzo playing bodyguard or whatever the kriff the Twi'lek thought he was doing. Every second that ticked by was one where Ava was alone and unprotected so Wolffe glared right back. "Step aside. Now."

The green-skinned male's frown deepened. "Don't you think you've caused enough trouble for one day?"

In response, Wolffe held up three fingers. "You have until I count down from three to get out of my way," he said, waggling them once. "After that, what happens is on your own _shabla_ head."

"Try me."

At this, Wolffe gave a dark chuckle and dropped on of his fingers. "You're not exactly my cup of caf. Three."

Ouzo's _lekku _twitched, revealing his agitation, but he stood his ground and glared at the clone. "I don't know who you think you are, but you've no right to come in here and do _any_ of this. You're not above the law."

Ignoring the comment, Wolffe dropped a second finger. "Two."

"I'll call the constable."

"You won't have time," Wolffe replied, brandishing his remaining, upright finger in warning.

Ouzo didn't move. The commander leveled his most dangerous look on the other male and stepped forward as he dropped his last finger, balling his hand into a fist. "One."

* * *

The door to Sinopé's office was closed, but after Ava gave a light rap, she heard the Corellian woman call her inside. Once she entered, the door automatically slid shut and locked behind her, and Ava took a breath to ward away the feeling of apprehension; instead, she stood before Sinopé's desk, where the tall, slender woman was seated, glancing over a datapad with a furrowed brow. At Ava's entrance, she looked up and leveled her dark eyes on the Zeltron woman.

"Melusiné," Sinopé said in a honey-sweet voice that dripped with sarcasm. "I'm _so_ glad you could find the time to visit."

Ava kept her eyes downcast and her posture vaguely submissive, which was always the wisest way to approach a situation like this. "Ouzo said that you wanted to speak to me, ma'am."

After setting the datapad down, Sinopé studied Ava for a moment, drumming her nails on the pale wood of her desk as she did so. She was not an old woman, but nor was she young; her face was thin and a little pinched, and Ava thought that she might have been considered pretty had her dark eyes not been filled with ice.

"I pay you to flirt with clients," Sinopé said at last as the rhythm of her nails increased in pace and intensity. "I pay you to bring them drinks and convince them that they are welcome and attractive. I pay you to make them relax so that they are more willing to spend their hard-earned creds here. You understand all of that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ava replied. Her heart was beating to the rhythm of Sinopé's tapping nails, but she took another breath to calm herself. Wolffe's ring was still secure; she could see it if she looked, but she was careful not to draw attention to it.

The Corellian woman's nails stopped, and the silence was abrupt. "Great. Do you also understand that I _don't_ pay you to fuck them?"

At this, Ava lifted her eyes. There was no point in denying anything, but she still had to draw this out as long as possible, as she had no way of knowing how long it would take Wolffe's Republic allies to arrive. "Maybe you should," she replied as she straightened a bit. "Mr. Dorin said that no one else here appealed to him as much as I did."

"I've got enough trouble with keeping insurance on Khaz," Sinopé said, her jaw tensing. "One Zeltron on the menu is quite enough – damn Hutts and their taxes and insurance provisos. It's a kriffing scam, but there's no way I could afford the both of you."

"Mr. Dorin seemed quite pleased with me," Ava said at last. "And he's got deep pockets. He told me that his business often takes him out here, and that he'd like to see me again."

Sinopé waved the words away. "They all say that. This is a business of appearances, Melusiné. The only things that are real, the only things that matter, are those that are on the surface. You know that as well as I do."

"But-"

The Corellian woman shook her head and picked up her datapad, shutting it off as she spoke. "Since this is the first infraction, I'll let you off with a fine: five-hundred credits, this time. Next time, I'll triple it. Do you understand?"

Ava swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Wonderful." Sinopé's voice held no small amount of sarcasm as she rose and began to collect her datapad and purse, her bearing suggesting that she was not willing to discuss the issue further. After a moment, she glanced up, her dark eyes falling on Ava and narrowing. "In case you were wondering, that's your cue to leave. I've got a mountain of problems to deal with that have nothing to do with an uppity little Zeltron, and I've wasted too much time here, already."

Ava didn't move. Annoyance was ebbing off of the Corellian woman, but it was not enough. It was not even close, and her mind raced as she tried to think of what she could say that would make Sinopé _stay_. One remark after another popped into her mind, only to be immediately pushed aside as ineffective. She needed something big, something dramatic. Something that couldn't just be brushed off.

Wolffe was counting on her.

After Sinopé gathered her belongings, she exhaled and glared at Ava. "Is there a reason you're still standing there?"

_To hell with it. _Ava nodded and the Corellian woman rolled her eyes, muttering something about "stupid whores," and crossed her arms.

"Well? I haven't got all day."

"Do you know Jurma the Hutt?"

Sinopé's eyes narrowed, but there was curiosity and surprise there, along with suspicion. "Not personally. What's it to you?"

"Jurma knows you," Ava replied, raising her chin. "She knows you've been feeding any useful information that you come across to the Separatists. She knows that the Republic is looking for you."

"And how does she know all of this?" The Corellian's voice was soft and dangerous, and Ava's heart went in her throat.

Thank the Force her voice did not betray her fear; she took pride in the fact that she sounded cool and collected. "I told her."

Sinopé did not say anything right away. She set down her datapad and purse, then rose and began to pace around her desk, her feet making no sound on the thick carpet. Only when she was looking down at the more petite female did she speak. "You?"

Ava stood her ground and did not allow herself to flinch or look away. She hoped that her heartbeat wasn't audible to the Corellian as it was to herself. "Yes."

Sinopé was less than an arm's length away and her eyes were cold. "Why? You work for _me_."

"You pay me," Ava told her. "But Jurma owns me. I work for the Hutt."

"The Republic is here because of you," Sinopé said in a flat voice. "Aren't they?"

They weren't, but Ava figured it was one more way to keep Sinopé's attention, so she nodded. "That's right." She paused, then offered the Corellian a wry grin that she knew would incite anger. "I guess you should have paid me better, huh?"

Before she could blink, Ava felt a blow against her mouth, the force of it sending her stumbling back a few paces as she reeled from the sudden, blossoming pain. She barely regained her footing when she felt another blow, this time to her cheek, one that was followed by another, and another.

Sinopé was shouting at her, now, hurling insults and curses along with each strike, but Ava's attention had turned away from her not-employer, because sometime between the first and third blow, her knees had buckled, sending her to the plush carpet and causing Wolffe's ring to fall free of its place. _Kriff!_

More screams, more curses. Ava had been called all of those things before so she was able to ignore them. Her main focus was now on withstanding the waves of fury that were rolling off of Sinopé and crashing over her; they were far worse than any physical pain. She was still on her hands and knees, still struggling to get to her feet. Another strike fell against her mouth, and she tasted blood.

Then the door burst open and Ava's world was changed, forever.

* * *

_Minutes ago..._

Ouzo ducked out of the way of an anticipated strike, but Wolffe had planned on such a thing, so he merely jabbed his fingers against the spot on the Twi'lek's right _lek _that contained a useful pressure-point, and the green-skinned male dropped to the floor without a sound.

Stepping over the Twi'lek, Wolffe hurried down the corridor, mentally tallying the time that the interaction had cost. A minute, maybe a minute and a half. Far too long. His steps quickened, making little sound against the carpeted floors. He had no idea where Scota's office was located, but figured it was in the area where he'd detected some comm-signals when he'd first arrived, so he hustled down the corridors until he reached marbled halls, and paused to get his bearings.

It didn't take long.

Someone, a female, was screeching bloody murder; it wasn't Ava, but from what was being said he figured it was directed at her. As he hurried to the source of the noise, he caught the sound of a strike, then the dull thud of a body hitting the floor.

Wolffe's blood boiled in his veins and he moved without thinking towards the closed door before him, where the noise was emanating. Locked. He gritted his teeth and began to slam his shoulder against the door itself, wishing he had a kriffing blaster or something that would cause more damage other than a _shabla _dent. More screeching; more vitriol directed at Ava. Another thudding sound that made his stomach churn. Wolffe switched tactics and kicked the door with his boot; he could break in, he knew it. Only another few blows-

"Commander!"

The sound of another clone voice caught him completely off-guard, as did the sound of booted feet rushing around him as the Wolfpack surrounded his position. Before he knew it, Sergeant Sinker was at his side, offering him one of his familiar DC-17s, and Wolffe accepted it without a word.

Sinker indicated the building as a whole. "General Plo and the others are securing the perimeter, sir."

Wolffe nodded but made no reply. There would be time for talking later.

One shot and the lock panel was disabled; the now-dented door slid open to reveal a tall, skinny Corellian woman in the act of raising her hand to Ava, who was on her knees at the taller woman's feet. There was blood around Ava's mouth and her eyes were wide.

Wolffe didn't think. He rushed forward and his men followed.

* * *

The next thing Ava knew, Wolffe was there, roughly grabbing Sinopé's wrists while someone else – a man in white and gray armor – bound the Corellian woman with a set of cuffs. Wolffe's voice was dark and filled with ire. "Sinopé Scota, you are under arrest for willful endangerment of the Republic."

As he spoke, more and more men in armor were swarming in Sinopé's office, their movements efficient and nearly synchronized – and kriffing _loud_. It was overwhelming and incredibly disorienting, and for a few moments all Ava could do was gape like an idiot as they surrounded her. Every single one of the soldiers was armed with a deadly-looking blaster, and she couldn't see their faces through their visored helmets.

And in the midst of it all was her Silver-and-Gold, barking orders like he was completely in his element, a far cry from the gentle man she'd shared a bar of chocolate with only hours ago.

None of the soldiers spoke to her, but Ava could feel their eyes on her body, and she realized at once what a mess she must have looked. She could taste blood on her lip, her cheeks were burning from the force of Sinopé's blows and her dress had hiked up after the first fall, revealing a significant display of pink skin. Normally she wouldn't have concerned herself with such a thing, but it felt wrong, now. She felt too exposed.

Several of the men in armor hauled Sinopé away – she'd stopped yelling at Ava and had switched to hurling curses at the soldiers – and Ava watched as Wolffe glanced around the room, searching for her, perhaps. She honestly wasn't sure.

When his eyes fell on her she watched as a frown crossed his face, and she wondered if it was caused by the sight of her blood. As he approached her, his expression smoothed and she realized that, while he still retained the same, military bearing as he had before, everything about him was different now. He reached her and knelt, offering her his hand. "Ava, are you alright?"

Wolffe's voice was the same, but somehow different. Ava blinked at his hand but was unable to form words or even move. Again, his eyes swept across her face and narrowed, then he turned his head. "North?"

"Here, Commander," a soldier said, appearing from the mass of the others. This one had gray and white armor like the rest, with the addition of a crimson insignia on his right shoulder, and he carried a backpack.

Ava's gut twisted. _Commander? _

Wolffe rose and indicated Ava without looking at her, and her throat felt tight. "Get her patched up. I've got to find the general."

"Right away, sir," North said, kneeling beside Ava as well and dropping his pack to the floor. "Boost has your kit, by the way."

"Thank the Force," she heard Wolffe mutter, but most of her attention had shifted to the man before her, now.

His voice...it was Wolffe's voice, but not, and at first she thought she'd been struck harder than she realized. North removed his helmet, which was painted with a stylized symbol of a wolf right above the black visor, and the moment she saw his face she felt lightheaded and a little ill.

Wolffe's face, but not. The planes of it were smoother, implying youth. Both of North's eyes were that same, near-gold shade of Wolffe's right one, and she figured that the rest of him was identical as it could be, minus the distinctive scar. If she concentrated, she could hear several of the other soldiers chattering, and though their voices were a little distorted through their helmets, Ava could tell that they were the same.

_Of course. _The Republic's clone army_. _Ava's eyes closed and she had a sudden urge to disappear into the floor. It made perfect sense; Wolffe's soldier-bearing that contrasted with his inexperience; his obscure words to her, before. _It goes against everything I was made for to place an innocent in harm's way._

At the time she hadn't given the words a second thought, but now...

_Made for._ Engineered. He was a clone, he was one of millions of identical men bred to fight in the Wars. Ava didn't know what to think.

"Ma'am?" North was speaking to her, so her eyes opened and she regarded the man who looked like another. "Are you in any pain? Experiencing any dizziness? Shortness of breath? Heart palpitations?"

_All of the above, _she wanted to say, but she only shook her head, still not quite able to form simple speech. The rest of the soldiers – the clones – were going through the room, presumably searching for anything else dangerous now that Sinopé had been carried off. She didn't see Wolffe anywhere.

North didn't seem to believe her, but he did not argue. Instead, he reached into his pack and pulled out a small, gray bundle that he unfolded to reveal a thin blanket, which he lightly draped across her shoulders. His movements were tentative and she watched his eyes flicker across her breasts before he averted them, and again she realized how kriffing terrible she must look, all bruised and bloody with her dress in disarray.

As she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, trying to cover herself, North busied himself with pulling out a hypospray and other assorted medical items. He wasn't particularly chatty, which she appreciated right now, though whether it was due to his nature or the circumstances, she couldn't have said.

"This will help with any pain," he said as he offered the hypo, and she tilted her neck to allow him access. There was a slight sting, but sure enough the throbbing in her cheeks and mouth began to recede. From there, he daubed at her face with a wetcloth and some bacta, and her injuries were pronounced as superficial.

The other soldiers were still in the room, but by now she thought they'd done all they were going to do, for they seemed more at ease than before, and several of them were casting looks her way. A few had removed their helmets, and it was surreal to see Wolffe's face everywhere and nowhere, all at once. He was still gone.

Of course he'd left. It was inevitable, given the nature of the situation, so she had no idea why the reality stung the way it did.

Unless it was because she'd wanted a chance to say goodbye.

Perhaps North was as good at reading her expressions as Wolffe – his _commander? _– for he cleared his throat and regarded her. "Are you sure you're okay, ma'am?"

"Yes," she managed at last, though it was a battle to make her voice work. "I'm fine, thank you. Just a little shaken up." She offered him a smile and was amused to see his ears get red.

He nodded, then his eyes fell on her right foot, and he frowned. "What happened, there?"

She followed his gaze and realized that the bandage from earlier had fallen away; she had no idea when it had happened, but the cut was bleeding again, seeping into the carpet. "I stepped on some glass, earlier," she told him as he reached into his pack again. "It doesn't hurt."

"Maybe not, but we don't want it to get infected, do we?" He smiled at her, the expression all kindness and warmth, and she had to look away.

When she did, her eyes fell on something small and glinting against the carpet, and she exhaled in relief. The moment North was finished with her heel, Ava leaned over and grabbed Wolffe's ring, and slid it over her thumb; it was too big, it wouldn't stay, but she felt a little more at ease with something to hold on to.

* * *

_North is an OC. From what I could tell, the Wolfpack has no "canon" medic, so I had to make one up. :P_

_Thanks for reading! All comments/thoughts are welcome. :)  
_

_Next time: cleanup.  
_


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine **

_Sex and lies and mystery,_

_They don't bring out the best in me,_

_Keep jumping from one lover to another._

_Thank you for the time you've taken,_

_Cleaning up the mess I've made,_

_Making the same mistake over and over._

~Mika, "Lola."

* * *

Once he found Boost, it only took Wolffe a few moments to change back into his armor, but it was the first time in his life that he'd felt...strange, wearing it. Disoriented, as if it was the wrong size or something, though he knew that was impossible. Too much time in civilian clothes, most likely. He figured he'd be back to normal, soon.

"One of your more interesting missions, I'd wager," Boost was saying as Wolffe fastened his kama. "You'll have to tell us about it when we get back to the _Triumphant._"

Sinker was with them as well; he'd removed his bucket and was gazing around the atrium with unconcealed interest. "Where are the...workers, sir?"

Wolffe glanced up from checking the charges on his pistols. "I believe their quarters are through there," he said, indicating the curtain behind the front desk. "Take a few men and round up anyone you can find; make sure to keep them calm. I'll see if the general wants to question any of them."

"And the Zelly we found in Scota's office?" Sinker asked.

Wolffe's hands stilled.

For as long as he lived, he would have this image in his mind: Ava kneeling on the carpet of Scota's office, her dress and hair mussed and her beautiful lips painted with her own blood; her disheveled, flushed appearance was a grim mockery of the time they'd spent together, and the idea that he'd been to late to protect her from harm was enough to make him ill.

It was no wonder she'd hardly been able to look at him, let alone take his offered hand. He'd indicated that he could keep her safe, but he'd failed to do so; in return for her bravery, he'd only given her more pain. Perhaps such a thing should have been expected, but the reality made his chest tight.

Force only knew what she'd thought seeing his men march in, but then he'd watched from across the room as she'd looked at the medic's face and realized what _he – Wolffe – _was, and he could see the shock written plainly across her features, which confirmed that he'd lost her.

Well, that wasn't entirely fair. He'd never had her to begin with. Not completely. As she'd said, the entire experience had been temporary; she'd made that very clear and he'd understood it perfectly. He'd accepted the temporary arrangement as an unalterable truth. Short but sweet.

He didn't know why a part of him had hoped for more.

Despite these thoughts, Wolffe disliked leaving Ava alone, but he had too much else on his plate to stay with her, and besides, North could do more for her right now than he could. "Bring her with the others for now," he said to them both after a beat. "I'll...deal with her later."

"Sir, yes, _sir_." Sinker nodded; he and Boost turned to leave, but paused as Wolffe called their names.

There'd been an edge of eagerness to the sergeant's voice that Wolffe didn't care for, so he kept his own voice deadly serious. "Make sure that everyone treats the workers here with the utmost respect. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Commander," Boost replied, frowning in confusion.

Sinker frowned as well, and Wolffe realized he'd snapped at the troopers, albeit unwittingly. They'd done their jobs; it wasn't their fault he was out-of-sorts from this mission, and he had no wish to involve them in his own personal..._whatever_ if he didn't have to, so he took a breath nodded once. "Thanks. Good work today, by the way. Both of you."

The silver-haired clone nodded and Boost grinned, then they replaced their buckets and hurried off towards the others. His kit fully intact, Wolffe briefly considered going to check on Ava, but he told himself that he still had too much to do. Instead, he went to look for the general, whom he found standing in the midst of the spa room, surveying the area.

Admittedly, it was strange to see the Kel Dor Jedi amid the holographic trees and the brightly-colored pools of water, but Wolffe tried to set his own memories of this place aside as he approached his general.

"Good to see you again, Commander," the Jedi said with a nod when Wolffe reached his side. "Excellent work with Scota."

The mention of the Corellian's name sent a thrill of fury through Wolffe; he hadn't caught much of what she'd said to Ava, but he'd heard enough. _Kriffing traitor, worthless whore._

His hands, now gloved and gauntleted, tightened into fists at his sides. "I suppose." He paused, then cleared his throat and tried very hard not to look down at the pool of purple, tepid water that the general was standing before. "General, the building is secure. Sinker and Boost are rounding up the workers; did you want to question any of them?"

"Do you think they have any additional information?"

Blast, sometimes it was irritating when his questions were answered with another question. Wolffe took a breath and considered the matter, then shook his head. "I don't think they know anything substantive. From what I can tell, none of them were involved with Scota's non-Ambrosia-related business."

The Jedi looked away from him, studying the pool. "And your contact? Does she-" He paused, tilted his head. "I assume your contact is female?"

Heat crept to Wolffe's face and he couldn't help the way his mind conjured up images of Ava: curvy, pink and smiling. "Yes, General."

Nodding again, Plo Koon continued. "How much does she know?"

An excellent question. For all that she seemed to have been unaware that he was a clone, Ava had completely floored him with her assessments of his role and his purpose, and he'd been impressed with the accuracy of her observations. Ava had a keen mind, and again he wondered what she'd be capable of should her mind – not her body – get put to good use.

"I don't know," he admitted after a moment, gazing at the bubbling, violet-colored water where he'd held Ava in his arms. "At first I thought she was just another worker here, but now...I think there's more to her. To her role," he added quickly, seeing the way that the general's head inclined in his direction.

"What do you mean?"

"Ava is...not like the others," Wolffe replied, frowning to himself in thought. "She's smarter than any of them, I'm certain of it. She's observant – she knew right away that I was military and with the Republic – and she's...brave."

"Brave?"

Kriff, a part of him wanted to vanish into the floor, because this was just too personal. _Last time I _ever_ mix business and pleasure. _"Yes, sir."

Plo Koon's head tilted again, the movement indicating curiosity as he appeared to study the clone. "And how do you know that, Commander?"

He had no answer that would suffice, so Wolffe only shook his head. "I just do."

Not for the first time, Wolffe wished he could see the Jedi's eyes as General Plo studied him. Even though he'd become adept at reading the Kel Dor's body language, sometimes, when he was distracted and a little off-kilter – like right now – he wished things were simpler.

When Plo Koon spoke, his baritone voice was steady, as it always was. "There is more."

"Ava risked a lot – everything – to help me," Wolffe said suddenly. "Even though she hardly knew me, not really. We hardly knew each other, but she put herself in harm's way for me. For a stranger. And I just...it feels wrong to leave her with nothing."

A clawed hand crept to the Jedi's breathing mask as he seemed to consider the clone's words, then he nodded once. "What would you like to do, Wolffe?"

Wolffe's mouth opened but no sound came out. What did he want to do? He could think of nothing other than going back to her and being able to tell her that she was free, that her life was her own. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He did want to kiss her again, at least once. But there would likely be no time for that, should she even still want him to after he'd failed to keep her from harm.

"I'd like to offer her something in return," he heard himself saying. "Ava did a great boon for the Republic, at great personal risk, and I think I can assume that her employment at House Ambrosia is at an end. Her future is uncertain, but I would like to change that."

He looked into his general's face as certainty swept over him. There was nothing he could offer her except an opportunity. "If I had the choice, I'd like Ava to be freed and given the means to provide for herself. I think she could do a fair job of it, if she had a chance."

Plo Koon's head dipped in another nod and Wolffe had the distinct feeling he'd passed a test of some kind. "Very good, Commander. If Ava is amenable to all of that, bring her to the _Triumphant, _and we will see what can be done."

Hope blossomed in his heart; it was nothing definite, nothing solid, but it was a chance, and it was more than he'd expected, so Wolffe snapped off a salute and turned to leave. As he did, his steps were light, again, because he was going back to her.

* * *

After North was satisfied that Ava had no more injuries, he'd brought her to the atrium, where the soldiers had assembled her coworkers in a nervous but colorful cluster. It was passing strange to stand between Khaz and Iolite while men in armor stood around them; after telling them that Sinopé had been arrested and they'd be sorted out, soon, none of the soldiers spoke to any of the non-soldiers. Nevertheless, Ava could feel their attention on the gathered females and males.

"No shortage of hired muscle in the Republic, is there?" Khaz murmured as she studied a trio of armored men guarding the doors to the street.

Wolffe was still absent but his ring was warm in Ava's hand; she held the blanket North had given her around her shoulders a little tighter. "They're not hired; I don't even think they get paid. They're clones."

At this, Iolite sucked in her breath. "Those...Humans that were grown to fight? I thought that was a silly rumor."

"I guess not," Khaz replied, shrugging. "Who knows what's really going on out there, anyway?"

Iolite's voice was curious. "If they're forced to fight and they don't get paid...does that make them slaves?"

_Slaves. _Wolffe hadn't talked like a slave; he'd spoken to her like a man who knew he was valued, really valued. He'd spoken to her like he wanted her to know the same thing, about herself, even though she knew it wasn't true. She knew the truth. She knew she was nothing.

Ava shivered and wished for a moment that she was wearing shoes; even with the blanket, she still felt far too cold in here. "I don't know."

There were a few hushed words and the others looked towards the corridor that led into the heart of House Ambrosia; it was Ouzo, accompanied by two men in armor. Iolite murmured something that Ava didn't catch and moved to greet her fellow Twi'lek while Khaz stayed with Ava.

"Someone looks unhappy," Khaz remarked as the green-skinned male joined them, putting his arm around Io.

Indeed, Ouzo was scowling, and when his eyes fell on Ava the expression deepened, but she felt nothing more than mild irritation for him. After all, he'd only been doing his job, though she wished he'd waited a little longer before interrupting her time with Wolffe.

A moment later, Khaz glanced at Ava, worry emanating from her dark blue eyes. "You don't think they roughed him up, do you?"

None of the soldiers had so much as spoken a harsh word to any of them, but it was still disconcerting to be surrounded by a bunch of identical armored and armed men. Ava didn't think that any of Wolffe's men had harmed Ouzo, but she wondered if Wolffe had gotten a blow or two in before he'd attempted to come to her rescue.

"He looks fine to me," she said at last, offering Khaz a smile and a flare of soothing pheromones. "You know he's unflappable, no matter what. And he's got Io to keep him company, now."

Either the pheromones or the words seemed to work, for Khaz relaxed and nodded, then rubbed at her eyes. "Kriffing hell, why couldn't they have arrested Sinopé during the day? I'm going to be exhausted for my next shift."

_Assuming there will be one, _Ava thought, though she kept the observation to herself.

However, agitation spiked through her anyway as she considered her future, or what was left of it. It was possible that Jurma wouldn't hear of her part in all of this, but she knew that it was a naïve hope. The Hutt was nothing if not well-informed, and would likely be quite unhappy with Ava for the role she'd played in Sinopé's arrest; it was a small matter in the grand scheme of things, but Ava knew that Jurma would not appreciate having the Republic involved in her affairs unless she wanted them to be.

And of course there was the little, niggling fact that Ava had disobeyed a direct order.

Despite her earlier words to Wolffe about the shape of her life, Ava was under no illusions that she was regarded as anything other than a piece of property, not unlike much of the décor in House Ambrosia: a pretty, polished and well-tended object, but an object, nonetheless. A great deal of time, money and effort had been spent turning her into what she was and Ava knew that the Hutt considered her something of an investment. She'd heard that slaves on other, more barbaric worlds were outfitted with chips in their bodies that would detonate should they try and escape, but such a thing had never been done to her, because Jurma's agents were everywhere. In Jurma's mind, there was no need for such things because an escape attempt would be discovered immediately.

The Hutt was not to be trifled with. Ava's actions today, both revealing herself to Sinopé and not reporting the Republic agent in House Ambrosia, would smack of betrayal, and she knew perfectly well what would happen to objects that no longer served a useful function.

Yes, Jurma would probably be displeased when they met again. Despite her blanket, Ava shivered.

"Oh, _hello_ Mr. Dorin," Khaz murmured, and Ava's head jerked up at the other Zeltron's words. "He cuts quite a dashing figure all suited up, doesn't he?"

It was Wolffe, standing at the entrance to the room, his eyes skimming House Ambrosia's assembled workers in search of her.

Well, she presumed, anyway.

Like the rest of the soldiers, his armor was gray and white, and she could see the same, stylized wolf emblem on one of the pieces that rested on his shoulders. He was wearing something around his hips – it wasn't quite a skirt, but that was the closest comparison she could make – and a part of her wanted to chuckle at the idea of him in such a thing. Then she saw the blasters at his sides.

A soldier. Wolffe was a soldier, not a special-ops guy, not an espionage agent, but a _soldier_. A fighter. A man who – by all accounts – had only been created to fight in the Wars. Although she'd been mostly right in her initial assessment of him, she still felt like she was completely off the mark, because she didn't know him at all. There was a helmet clipped to his belt, so she could see his face, but he may as well have been someone she'd never met.

Khaz chuckled and nudged Ava's side with her elbow. "Sylphy and I were disappointed that he didn't like us as much as he liked you, so I hope you enjoyed him while you could."

"I did," she replied as his eyes fell on her at last. She may have been kidding herself, but she thought there was a glimmer of..._something_ in the gold. Happiness, maybe. The silver, of course, held nothing but cool surveillance. She considered reaching out to get a sense of what he was feeling, but decided against it. Maybe some things it was better not to know.

There were two helmeted soldiers flanking him as he strode across the room to where she was, and out of long-ingrained habit she straightened her spine but kept her eyes downcast; it was easier than looking at him and seeing a stranger.

"Are you alright?" His deep voice was perfunctory. Not cold, but business-like.

Ava nodded and risked a glance upward. He did look...fetching in his armor, but the presence of so many cloned soldiers and their weapons made her feel a little small and intimidated. Ava didn't care for the feeling.

_Calm down, _she schooled herself. _Think of him as a former client. What you had was nice, but it wasn't real. _

Another deep breath allowed her to regain a measure of control over herself and her emotions. When she was certain she could speak normally, she gave him a smile. "I'm still a little shaken up," she said, pleased that her own voice sounded collected. "But North was very attentive. Thank you for sending him."

He looked satisfied, then indicated the corridor from which he'd come. "I'd like to speak with you in private for a moment, if that's okay."

Khaz nudged her side again, but Ava ignored her and dipped her head in a nod. "Of course. I'm at your disposal."

She didn't miss the way the two soldiers behind Wolffe exchanged glances though neither of them spoke when he told them to stay behind; within a minute or so, she and Wolffe were back in Sinopé's office, and they were alone. It was surreal how everything looked the same but felt so different, and Ava half-wondered if the entire day had been some insane dream. The plush rug where she'd landed was soft against her feet, but she still felt cold, like she was standing on a block of ice.

After he shut the door, Wolffe glanced her way. "How are you, really?"

There was concern in his voice, but Ava tried to push back her own feelings on the observation. Instead, she glanced down, searching for any traces of her blood. Finding none, she looked back at him. "Well-enough. I bounce back pretty easily."

"You're not injured too badly?" His eyes were on her mouth; she thought she caught a flare of regret from him before it was quickly snuffed.

She shrugged, hoping to dispel her reaction to his regret; what did he have to regret, after all? "All the hurts are superficial," she replied in a light voice. "I didn't get any injuries that will last."

Three steps brought him before her, but he did not touch her as his arms folded neatly behind his back. "What will you do, now? Do you think you'll still have a job here?"

Ava couldn't help herself, and chuckled outright; the sound got lost in the room around them. "No," she told him, shaking her head. "I think that's the one thing I can be certain of."

To her surprise he seemed satisfied again, and he regarded her for a beat before replying. "I thought as much. To that end, I've spoken with General Plo Koon – my commanding officer – and he's agreed to bring you back with us to the _Triumphant._"

"Oh, really?" Ava arched her brow and managed to sound wry even when she felt a flicker of apprehension. "To _what_ end, exactly?"

She actually hadn't meant to insinuate anything, but she supposed it came out that way, for his expression darkened. "As a _free_ woman," he said, and her breath caught. "Not a...slave of any kind."

He paused, then seemed to make a decision because he gently placed his gloved palms on her upper arms, over the blanket that North had provided, and met her eyes. "Ava, if you come with me, you won't be beholden to anyone, ever again."

_Except to you, _she thought as she savored the solid press of his hands. _Whoever you are. _"What will I do, then? What will become of me?"

Wolffe sighed and his hands dropped back to his sides. "I haven't quite gotten that far. I wanted to speak to you, first."

Ava clucked her tongue playfully. "You didn't have a plan for me?"

"You...were quite unexpected," he said as a flicker of a smile crossed his face.

She chuckled, but beneath the blanket she was clutching, her fingers tightened over the ring and she felt something knot in her stomach. "So I go to your...ship? The _Triumphant_ is a ship of some kind?"

Wolffe nodded. "A _Venator_-class Star Destroyer. General Plo's flagship...well, the second one." He frowned at some distant memory. "The first was destroyed, but the Jedi tend to reuse names."

"Very practical," Ava replied, nodding. "What happens when I get there?"

He seemed to consider, his body sliding back into the stance that felt a little formal for her taste. "I don't know," he admitted as his eyes fell on her. "But I will find a place for you, Ava. I promise."

That was when she fully opened herself to his emotions and felt the rippling waves of his conviction and his assurance, tumbling off of him with enough force to knock her to her knees, if she hadn't expected to find them. Back straight, armored and armed, Wolffe was a man who truly believed what he was saying; he believed that there was a place for her in his Republic, and that he would find a way to keep her safe.

But she knew better.

Even if they were able to spend as much time together as they wanted, how long would it last? A month? Three months? There was only so long that passion could sustain them, which was why it was so important in her line of work to seize the moment and wring every drop of pleasure out of it, because one never knew when it might dissipate and leave only emptiness behind.

If she allowed him to do this for her, if she allowed him to "find a place" for her, then he would own her, body and soul, even if there was no contract. It would be unspoken, and Ava knew that she would eventually either resent him for it, or – worse – she'd come to feel nothing at all for him, and he really would be just another person who paid for her, in one way or another.

They'd had fun, lots of it. They'd shared something wonderful, intense and passionate, but it wasn't something that was built to last. Ava knew that and she'd thought Wolffe did as well, but now she could see tell that he'd been fooled by his own emotions. Certainly, she'd been fooled a little too, though at least she had enough experience to know how to look beneath the emotions and see the truth.

Perhaps he discerned something of her apprehension, for he spoke again, and his voice held a little more certainty this time. "I won't...ask anything of you that you aren't willing to give," he said; his body tensed, like he was going to touch her, but he seemed to think better of it and held still instead. "You won't owe me anything. I just want to help you. I just want to give you...something good, for a change."

"You already have," she replied as her fingers tightened around the ring in her grip. "Each moment with you has been a gift, Wolffe. I've never met anyone like you."

She meant every word.

"So you'll come?" At his words she gave a coy smile and he sighed, though again she caught the trace of a grin on his face.

_Absolutely not. _Ava pretended to think about it, then nodded once. "Yes."

Relief edged off of him, as did a flare of arousal, though it was brief. She thought he wanted to kiss her but he held himself in check and gave her a considering look. "You _do _have shoes, don't you? It's very cold in space."

She chuckled. "I have a nice pair of real shoes, and pants, too. Can you imagine me in pants?"

Force, he smiled again. However, as he began to reply, a comlink affixed to his the armored plating on his forearm began to chirrup, so he lifted it to his mouth. "Yes, Sergeant?"

"_The general's looking for you, Commander,"_ a clone voice said._ "Apparently the local authorities have arrived and have some...questions. They keep going on about a fine, or some kriffing thing. Did you know we needed a permit for all of this?"_

"I'll be right there," Wolffe replied, sighing. He shut off his comlink and looked back at Ava, his expression all business once more. "You should collect anything that you want to take with you. Whenever you're ready, I'll send a squad to guide you to the transports."

A squad? Oh, that would not do, not in the least. Ava gathered up the blanket with the hand that still held his ring and placed her other hand on his forearm, effectively stilling him. "I'd feel more comfortable going with just you. Not that your soldiers haven't been nice, but..."

She trailed off and let him think whatever he would. He studied her for a moment, then nodded once. "I'm afraid I'll have to be dirtside for at least the next few hours, but you should probably leave as soon as possible...would you be comfortable with just North going with you? He's still a little shiny, but he's got a good head on his shoulders."

Kriff, he sounded so sincere and earnest, like he wanted nothing more than to make her happy, and she hated herself a little for what she was going to do. But it was better to hate herself than him, which she knew would be the case if she went to that warship, so Ava gave him her brightest smile even as his comlink began to chirrup again. "That's fine," she said as his comlink punctuated her words. "I can even find him on my own, since you have to go."

In response, Wolffe cast her a look that was pure warmth, and Ava decided she wanted to kiss him. So she did.

Even as he was lifting his forearm again, she leaned up on the balls of her bare feet and brushed her lips against his once, lightly, then settled back down. "Thank you," she said as she looked into his silver-and-gold eyes. "For everything."

She did not expect him to lift his gloved hand to touch her cheek, nor did she anticipate that he would ignore his comlink to pull her closer for another, stronger kiss, but he did. His mouth on hers was the same as it had been only hours ago and some of her conviction evaporated.

But not enough.

When they parted he brushed her cheek one more time, then nodded. "I'll see you later," he said as he turned and made his way to the door.

_No, you won't. _Ava watched him leave, then took a deep breath to steady herself before she hurried off to her quarters. Other than a few clothes, toiletries and holo-books, she didn't have much that she called her own, but what there was she stuffed into a large, leather backpack that she'd had for years.

Several minutes later, once she had changed into a long-sleeved tunic, pants, and the much-lauded shoes – all of which were far less conspicuous than her clingy dress – she stepped back into the atrium and tried to pick out North among the rest of the soldiers. The passage of time without incident had eroded the rougher edges of House Ambrosia's workers' nerves, and many of them had taken to chatting with the waiting troopers, most of whom seemed more than happy to chat back.

"Ma'am...?" A clone voice made her glance towards the reception desk, where North was standing as if he'd been looking over the screen. At her look he offered her a salute and hefted his back on his armored shoulder. "The commander asked me to take you to the larty – the transport – and escort you to the _Triumphant_," he said, thumbing towards the exit. "Are you ready to go?"

"I'm more than ready," she replied, offering him another smile and an accompanying ripple of pheromones. "Lead the way, North."

Ava caught his elevated arousal; it was brief and not terribly strong, but that was her intention. While it wasn't her strong suit, she could be subtle when she needed to be. She said goodbye to her baffled former coworkers, then followed the clone out of House Ambrosia, out into the street, where even more clones had formed something of a perimeter around the building. Several squat, splayed transports were waiting, engines buzzing, and it was towards one of these that North guided her.

As she went, Ava cast a quick glance around, as if taking in the sights, and considered her options. There was a spaceport not far from this section of the Undercity, but it was not where she needed to go, not yet. She did, however, need to get out of the immediate area, as the presence of so many soldiers indicated that if she snuck away now, they would likely find her pretty easily. However, there were a few places that she'd come across on Nar Shaddaa that she thought would serve her purpose, provided she could reach them.

When North offered his hand to help her into the transport, she accepted and returned his kind, innocent gesture with a bright smile and a stronger flare of desire, and she felt his answering arousal. It was fine line to walk; while she disliked the idea of coercing anyone in this manner, she had no other choice that she could see.

Ava had very little to her name and she was desperate. She knew that this would not be a moment that she remembered with pride, but such was the way of the world, sometimes. At least, if her plan worked, her life would be her own for the first time.

It was a possibility she'd not considered, before.

_You're not expendable, Ava. Your life is valuable._

Perhaps he was right. She hoped she'd get a chance to find out.

The doors closed, encasing them in near-darkness, which was when she sent another assault of her pheromones towards the young trooper; as the ship rose, it tilted a little and Ava pretended to lose her balance, allowing herself to stumble against his chest and land in his arms.

"Sorry about that, North," she murmured, managing to make her voice carry over the throaty buzz of the engines. "I'm glad you were here to catch me, though." Again, she sent out another barrage of arousal, and his hands tightened on her waist for one second before he released her.

"It's...it's fine, ma'am," he replied in a thick voice. He hadn't replaced his helmet and she could practically see the familiar look of desire in his eyes.

"Ava," she said, giving him another smile as a few streaks of manufactured light filtered in from the outside. "Just Ava, please."

"Ava," he repeated, a little breathlessly. "Okay."

She took a breath, then released another round of pheromones, the strongest yet, and when she spoke it was in her sweetest voice. "North?"

His breath caught. "Yes, Ava?"

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, ensuring that her lips brushed against his skin just enough to make him shiver. "This is where I want you to take me..."

* * *

_Sigh. Poor North. _

_Thank you for reading! Only two chapters left after this. Time flies, huh? :P_

_Next time...consequences._


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

_You know me, I had plans._

_But they just disappeared,_

_To the back of my mind._

~The Black Keys, "Little Black Submarine."

* * *

_Three hours later..._

Kriff, he was tired.

It had been a very, very long day. Although Wolffe wanted nothing more than to fall into his rack for the next eighteen hours – at least – his steps off of the larty and onto the _Triumphant_'s hangar were light because Ava was waiting for him.

Back on Nar Shaddaa, after he'd left Ava to gather her things, he'd ordered North to bring her to one of the cabins outfitted for civilian use, and for the junior medic to see that she got something to eat if she was hungry. He hoped that she'd get some rest as well, but he had no way of predicting what she would do. They'd known one another such a short time, after all.

Of course there was a part of him that wanted to join her in the cabin, but he schooled himself to patience. Everything in her world had changed so suddenly, and he had no wish to push anything upon her that she didn't desire, though the enthusiastic way she'd returned his kiss earlier told him that she might not mind-

"Commander!"

Agitation in a medic's voice automatically made his stomach sink, but he pushed the feeling aside and turned to see North hurrying towards him from one of the larties, his bucket swinging at his hip. The younger clone paused about a meter from Wolffe and snapped off a crisp salute, his entire body rigid with a tension that was almost palpable.

"Report, trooper."

North swallowed nervously, and Wolffe felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. "Sir, the young woman – Ava – she's gone, sir."

The commander's stomach sank a little more and he knew his voice was sharp. "Explain."

The junior medic took a deep breath but even so, his words were still stuttered and halting. "I don't understand it, sir. One minute we were taking off, then...she-" His face colored and his eyes dropped.

But Wolffe was in no mood for this shiny's stammering, so he gave the younger man a severe look. "She _what_?"

"She...asked me to take her...somewhere else." North was still blushing furiously. "She said...she wanted to...see me alone, so she asked me to get Tracer to set us down in another part of the city. Once he did, she-"

His words cut off again and Wolffe thought the fellow was going to fall to pieces right then and there, so he dialed his scowl back a few notches and tried to look understanding. "It's okay, lad," he said as calmly as he could, given the fact that he really, _really_ wanted to punch something. "You're not in any trouble; just tell me what happened."

North nodded, exhaled, and continued. "I don't know what happened, sir. The minute we touched down on the landing platform and the doors opened, she...thanked me, and she stepped off. Before I knew it, she had disappeared into the crowd. Tracer and I tried to find her, but...it was useless. We only just got back."

For a few moments, neither clone spoke as another transport landed behind them. Wolffe took one deep breath, then another, fighting back the insistent urge to pummel the bulkhead while his stupid, _di'kut_ heart was getting stuck in his throat and he tried to wrap his mind around what he'd just heard.

Ava was gone.

Perhaps mistaking the commander's silence for anger at him, North continued. "I don't understand it, sir. She was...pretty, no doubt, but I never wanted her like _that,_ I promise you. But the minute we got on that transport, it was like...someone switched something on in my body, and I could hardly think about anything other than-"

The junior medic broke off as his face had become progressively redder with each word, though by now Wolffe's thoughts were distant. Ava's pheromones. Of course. Although he'd not experienced them firsthand, it wasn't a big leap of analysis to figure out that was how she'd influenced the other clone, and he knew perfectly well how a man's hormones could affect his judgment. There was no way Wolffe could blame North for anything; if he'd not let himself get blinded by lust, none of this would have happened, and he certainly wouldn't have put the medic into this situation in the first place.

North appeared to be at a loss for words, so Wolffe shook his head. "It's alright, North. I think I understand." Taking a deep breath, he offered the other trooper a tentative pat on the shoulder, because the kid was still trembling with agitation. "You did the best you could. It's not your fault she...left."

"I'm sorry, sir," North replied. "Tracer and I looked _everywhere_, we really did. I didn't want to bother you before I knew for certain-"

"Thank you for looking," Wolffe broke in; he tried to sound calm but thought he wasn't managing, for the younger clone paled a little. _Shinies. _Wolffe bit back a sigh and thumbed towards the hangar exit. "Why don't you get some grub?"

A relieved expression crossed the medic's face as he saluted, then hurried off. The commander figured he should do the same, as he had mission reports to write and a few days' work to catch up on, but he didn't move. Another transport was landing, the familiar buzzing engines not quite as comforting of a sound as it normally was, but Wolffe remained standing in place, pretending to oversee the offloading of his troops.

His thoughts were still miles away, on Nar Shaddaa.

_The press of her hand to his chest was warm, and his heart quickened from the simple touch. Her voice was completely serious. "...this isn't anything that will last. You know that, right?"_

Of course he'd known that. Of course he knew the experience had been an illusion, a trick of his own emotions and passions. He'd let his body get the better of his mind, and it had been...well, it had been fantastic, for a while, but now that it was over he felt empty. Hollow.

The larty's engines echoed in the cavity of his chest and he wanted to move, to do _something_ other than stand here, but he was frozen in place, remembering.

That last, dazzling smile she had given him...that was the key. It should have been the warning that she was lying about coming to the _Triumphant_, but he hadn't wanted to believe anything other than what she'd said. It was a charming, lovely smile, but it hadn't been real; in the end, it was just a reflection of their brief time together.

"_Thank you, for everything."_

Of course she'd thanked him. He'd just handed her exactly what she wanted, and while he didn't blame her for wanting freedom, he wished – maybe more than a little – that she'd _asked_ him for help, rather than taken it on her own. _I would have given it to her, _he realized as he watched his men making their way through the hangar. _If she'd only told me what she wanted._

Frustration welled within him because it shouldn't have been this way. He knew better than to allow himself to get attached to someone like her, someone whose life was not her own and who was used to being used. Ava lived and breathed in a world of manufactured sensuality, and he figured that she knew exactly what to say to make a man lose his mind, even for a night.

There was a small, bitter part of him that thought she would not have made the same decision had he been a normal man and not a cloned soldier. An implant and a scar did not make a man unique any more than a name did; they didn't give him the ability to offer her anything more appealing than a few, pleasant hours. They didn't give him the ability to keep her safe from those who would do her harm.

_Fek_, he was exhausted.

Wolffe sighed and rubbed at his eyes, then turned away from the larties and began to walk towards the turbolift, half-debating if he should eat or shower first, but knowing that he was just going to fall into his rack. When he reached the lift, he realized that his armor still seemed strange and heavy, and he was irritated with himself for the feeling because he needed to get back to _normal_. The mission was over; it was time to move on and forget.

Above everything else, he should have known better. It was just that kriffing simple.

* * *

_The next day..._

Ava took a deep breath and pushed back her annoyance with the Rodian female, instead offering the pawnbroker her most earnest expression. "It's real, I promise you."

"Hmm," the Rodian mused, examining Wolffe's ring beneath a lighted magnifying glass. "It looks real...but how do you know it works if you haven't activated it?"

The pawnshop she'd selected for this task was cluttered but not dirty, which Ava supposed was quite a feat, though she had no sense of any type of organization to the massive amounts of wares that were packed into the little, Nar Shaddaa shop: piles of old tech – she'd been informed that it all worked, just fine – were clustered on various tables along the walls; racks of clothing were scattered seemingly at random throughout the shop's interior.

Best of all, the counter consisted of a long, glass case that was brimming with jewelry of all kinds, but Ava could tell that there was nothing like this ring in the Rodian's shop, which was how she knew she should get a good price for it.

She'd already remained on Nar Shaddaa far too long, and while she'd managed to avoid both the Republic soldiers and Jurma's agents, it was only a matter of time before someone caught up with her. A part of Ava had hoped that Wolffe would return and come looking, but she pushed the feeling aside as being silly.

Once she'd gotten over the initial shock, she'd realized that she didn't care that he was one of millions of clones; she liked him, still. He was a clone, but he was also a man, and a good one at that. No, what truly mattered in this situation was that he was a soldier with a war to win, which meant he undoubtedly had more important things on his mind than a silly, Zeltron whore, like her.

So she pointed out the tiny gem-like objects on the ring. "At first I thought those were marcasite, but look at the cut...they're not stones at all."

The Rodian made a noise of acknowledgment. "So they're not." Her blue head lifted and regarded Ava with inscrutable, glittering eyes. "Where did you say you got this, young lady?"

"It was a gift," Ava replied as she held the pawnbroker's gaze. "But it turns out I need the money more than the sentiment."

At this, the Rodian chuckled and nodded, her antennae bobbing with the motion. "_Males_. They're the same no matter the species, aren't they?"

Ava did not reply; as the pawnbroker continued examining the ring, she turned her attention to a pair of tall, leather boots that had been placed on the counter seemingly at random. They looked sturdy and well-made, a far cry from her own, flimsy shoes, and a glance at the size showed her that they should fit her feet. Wolffe probably would have approved of them.

"I've a fellow who can test out tech like this for me, but it usually takes a few days to get a hold of him...and you said you're in a hurry." The Rodian's voice drew her attention back to the pawnbroker, who'd set the ring back on the counter and was leaning forward, arms crossed before her chest. "So without knowing if it works, I can only give you so much."

She named a figure that would barely fund a ticket across the hemisphere, let alone off-world, and Ava blanched. "That's a fraction of what it must be worth."

"Fine," the pawnbroker said, lifting the ring. "Save me the hassle and activate this emergency beacon of yours. Show me it works, then we can talk real money."

Ava accepted the ring and fingered the little gems on the side, remembering Wolffe's pragmatic expression when he'd given it to her. _Necessary_. He'd thought it was necessary to protect her in some way, even when he couldn't stand before her, attempting to absorb any blow that came her way. She wondered if he still felt that way. Probably not. He'd probably forgotten her; by now they'd been apart longer than they'd known each other, and it was stupid to think that he felt anything better than indifference for her, especially after the ungrateful way she'd repaid his kindness.

She glanced at the Rodian. "I know it works."

"That's nice, sweetheart," the blue-skinned pawnbroker said. "But if you want more cash, I need proof before purchase. Or, you can accept my offer and consider yourself fortunate that I'm so generous."

_Kriffing hell. _Ava briefly considered using her pheromones to influence the Rodian, but she still regretted doing so to North, and wanted as few regrets as possible, now. But it was difficult to accept such a low amount of money when she was so desperate, so she glanced around the shop, thinking to try and buy herself some time to work out...something.

Her eyes fell on the boots, so she glanced back at the Rodian and named a figure, a much, much higher one than had been offered, and – predictably – the pawnbroker laughed in her face. They haggled for several minutes until Ava sighed and raised her hands in a gesture of acquiescence. "Very well. I'll knock a hundred creds off of my last offer, but I want you to throw in those boots. Then I'll leave and not bother you any more."

The Rodian studied her, then nodded once. "Deal." They shook hands, and Ava watched as the ring disappeared into the Rodian's case as she accepted the stack of creds and her new boots. As she took a seat on a little stool at the counter to slip the boots on, the pawnbroker offered her a considering look. "You drive a hard bargain, for a Zelly. Need a job? I could use a little eye-candy around this place; brings the customers in like flies to Nubian honey."

"Thanks, but I'm not looking for anything here," Ava replied, wriggling her toes in the boots and silently thanking the Force that they fit perfectly. "I'm about to head off-world."

"Where to?"

Ava stuffed her old shoes in her bag and stowed her creds. "I'm still working that part out. All I've been able to decide is anywhere but here."

The pawnbroker fiddled with the lock on the jewelry case. "Ever thought about going to Tanaab? My son and his family are doing pretty well out there. He says it's peaceful and there's plenty of work."

Until a day ago, Ava had never considered that she'd set foot on another planet besides Nar Shaddaa; she'd been born here and she'd always figured she'd die here as well. _Tanaab_. It was as good an option as any. "Maybe I will. Thanks."

"Take care of yourself," the Rodian said, lifting a blue hand in a gesture of farewell.

Nodding, Ava gave a bright smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes, and slipped out the door.

* * *

_Three weeks later..._

Wolffe leaned back in his office chair and rubbed at his eyes, thinking it was time for another cup of caf because if he didn't get a jolt of energy, he'd start to crash. Sleep wasn't a bad thing, of course, except for the fact that his dreams were usually of _her_.

In his waking mind, he was able to set the memories aside and focus on his duty, but at night, in the dark hours when he would toss and turn in his bunk, he could feel the heat of her skin beneath his hands, taste the pliable sweetness of her lips as they kissed. _Fek, _there were times he could still _hear_ her murmuring his name, again and again.

No matter if he was awake or asleep, he could still see her smile.

Yes, it was definitely time for more caf. Those reports of Kadavo wouldn't write themselves, anyway.

A chime sounded at his office door and he scowled to himself; in the last few weeks, most of his men had learned to leave their commander alone unless there was an emergency, but sometimes Boost and Sinker tried to cajole a little bit of sociability out of him. He appreciated their concern, but at the moment he wanted nothing to do with any of them.

Without looking up from his console, Wolffe lifted his voice. "Come in."

The familiar tread should have alerted him to the fact that it was _not _one of his troopers who entered the room, but he was...well, he was tired and distracted, so he didn't realize his general was standing before him until a moment too long had passed.

When Wolffe glanced up he mentally chastised himself for his lax in attention, then slid to his feet and offered a salute. "General. Sorry, sir...I didn't see you, there."

The tilt of Plo Koon's head indicated that the Jedi wasn't looking at the commander, but at his desk, which was littered with half-empty caf cups, datapads and stacks of flimsies. Wolffe grimaced inwardly. He'd _meant _to clean up, but it seemed like such an unimportant task when there was a War to win, and besides, cleaning didn't occupy his mind nearly enough.

The Jedi looked back at him and Wolffe steeled himself for...something. What exactly, he wasn't sure, but he doubted that General Plo had come to his office in the late hours of the evening to lecture him about maintaining a tidy work environment.

He was right.

"At ease, Wolffe," the Jedi said, indicating the chair behind the clone. However, Wolffe did not take his seat again, instead waiting as the Kel Dor studied him for a few seconds. "How are you?"

Perhaps if he'd been less tired, he would have answered differently, but at the moment Wolffe was in no mood for a chat, so he shrugged. "I don't know, sir. How do I seem?"

"Lately, I've noticed that you've been acting like a...how do the men put it?" Plo Koon's hand lifted to his breathing mask in thought. "Ah, yes. _Di'kut _is the word, isn't it?"

Wolffe fought back a wince and did not drop his eyes from his CO. "Depends, sir."

"On...?"

"On your point."

General Plo chuckled and his hand dropped to his side. "You've never been a particularly easy man to get along with, Wolffe, but something has changed, and it's affecting you in a negative way."

This sent a flare of unease through the commander, so he faced his general, head-on. "Sir, if I've been negligent in my duty, I request that you immediately inform me, so I can correct-"

"No, no," Plo Koon broke in, raising his hand in a silent request for Wolffe to stop speaking. "You mistake my meaning. In all the time we've known one another, I've yet to see you display even a trace of negligence. No, I'm not speaking of anything related to your duty, but something of a more...personal nature."

_Oh, kriff. _Wolffe nodded, but he still felt uneasy as he waited for the Jedi to continue. After Nar Shaddaa, they'd been sent on one mission after another, practically without a break, so there hadn't been time for Wolffe to say anything about Ava to the general aside from a terse, _she's not here, sir._ Truthfully, he'd hoped it would stay that way.

"Since your mission to Nar Shaddaa, I've observed that you've been...different, Wolffe. Harsher. Sullen and quick to anger. Well," the Jedi paused, and there was the barest trace of humor in his next words. "Quick_er_ to anger."

A beat later, the Jedi's voice turned calm again. "Do you think this is an incorrect observation on my part?"

They both knew it wasn't, but Wolffe was stubborn and didn't want to answer right away, so he crossed his arms before his chest and said nothing for a long moment, during which his general only watched him, giving the impression that he could see straight through the clone's silence.

Finally, the commander admitted defeat. "No, sir. It's not."

More silence, and he knew what the general wanted but would likely not ask for. Plo Koon's style of leadership was not as direct as General Skywalker's, or as forthright as General Kenobi's; not that the Kel Dor used deception, but he had a tendency to guide one to where they needed to be without them realizing it until they were there.

Sometimes Wolffe was amazed at the Jedi's ability to bring perfect clarity to a tangled, messy situation with only a few words. So he knew he could resist, but he also knew that if he didn't, he might gain some perspective, assuming the Jedi didn't fault him for forming an attachment to a Nar Shaddaa whore. _No, _he thought immediately, brushing the word aside. _That's not fair. That's not who she is. _

"I should have known better," he said at last, looking down at his gloves and remembering how Ava had tugged them off of his hands. "It was just a mission, only a temporary assignment, but...it's stayed with me. _She's_ stayed with me, but I should have known better."

"Than to...?"

Wolffe sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think...I think I developed feelings for her, a little. I must have," he added, to himself more than the Jedi. "It's the only explanation for why I feel so...out-of-sorts."

Plo Koon's voice was quieter, now. "You are unhappy."

"Yeah," Wolffe said as he crossed his arms again. "That sounds about right." He rolled his eyes. "You're right, sir. I am a _di'kut. _I'd have to be an idiot to have...fallen for a woman after knowing her less than a day._"_

There was a beat of silence, then the Jedi spoke again, thoughtfully, as if they were talking out an upcoming mission plan. "Sometimes I forget who you are, Wolffe."

_Okay, that's probably sign of...something not good. _"Sir?"

Plo Koon took a breath; because of the mask there was no sound, but Wolffe could see the movement of his shoulders. "On the battlefield, you think and act like a soldier three times your actual age, and I've yet to see you truly beaten, even in defeat." He canted his head to the commander and continued. "But I sometimes forget that beneath all of that, you are still a very, very young man."

"Maybe I am," Wolffe replied darkly. "But I know how the galaxy works. I shouldn't have let my guard down like I did."

"Perhaps," the Jedi said, and Wolffe's stomach twisted in a knot. "But tell me this: if given the chance to go back and erase the time that you spent with Ava, would you take it?"

This, at least, he knew. "Not on your life, General."

"So, can you acknowledge that something good did come out of the experience?"

Wolffe was still tired and out-of-sorts, but some of the heaviness lifted from his shoulders. "Yeah, I suppose it did." A beat later, though, he scowled and shook his head. "But it doesn't matter, does it? Even if we shared something nice, I can't think of any of that without thinking of...how she left."

The Jedi nodded. "The new medic, the younger one – North – told me a little of what happened."

"She just _left,_" Wolffe exclaimed, adding a noise of disgust. "Without warning. I guess I should have known what she was planning, on some level, but if she'd only _told _me something was...wrong, or whatever, I could have done something about it. But instead she got poor North all hot and bothered, then took off to who-knows-where."

He scowled at the floor, as hard as he could. "And that makes me question _everything. _Everything she ever said to me, everything she ever did. Every look, every laugh, every smile...was any of it real, or was I just fooling myself?"

He broke off, suddenly feeling ashamed for his childish outburst. He was a commander, for Force's sake, and he should have known better. _Di'kut, _indeed.

Plo Koon waited a beat, as if seeing if Wolffe would say anything more; when he didn't, the Jedi lifted his hand to his mask in thought. "You wonder if there was no other reason for the way she treated you than because she intended to use you?"

How could anyone sum things up so kriffing neatly? It was mind-boggling. Wolffe nodded. "Yeah. That's about it."

"From what I understand, Ava was a slave of some kind. Is that correct?" The general's voice was still so calm, and Wolffe nodded again, curious, but not quite sure where this was going. A brief pause, then Plo continued. "Then I can theorize that her own experiences with men – or people in general – have not been overwhelmingly positive."

_"Each moment with you has been a gift, Wolffe. I've never met anyone like you_."

"I don't think so, either," Wolffe replied, and felt his shoulders drop.

The Jedi nodded. "Admittedly, my own experience in the arena of females is limited, but I like to think I've learned something about the nature of sentient beings, and in this case...I wonder if she had all of these same thoughts about you, that you were simply using her as a means to an end. I would imagine that she was unused to being treated as anything other than a slave."

Wolffe frowned and looked down at his gloved hands again, remembering.

"_You're not expendable, Ava_. _Your life is valuable."_

_She smiled at him. "Saying it with such conviction doesn't make it true, you know."_

It had been a true smile, but a sad one, then she'd told him that she'd been a slave since she was seven years old.

Wolffe understood that he was young by galactic standards, and that there were many who looked upon him and his brothers as little more than disposable people, but he knew that Plo Koon felt differently. Wolffe knew that he was valued, that his brothers were valued. He didn't think Ava had ever known that about herself. The idea made him grimace as his hands tightened into fists; now, he _really _wanted to punch something even though he knew it wouldn't do anything other than make his knuckles ache.

"There was no way Ava could have anticipated how events would have played out," the Jedi said, his steady voice pulling Wolffe out of his sullen thoughts. "Even if she knew you were from the Republic, I don't think she meant to use you, Wolffe. Or if she did, it was not something that was in her mind from the outset. From where I'm standing, it looks like she saw an opportunity, and took it. After what you've told me, can you fault her for such a thing?"

Suddenly he felt heavy again, full but unstable, like a rag soaked in water, and he thought again how tired he was. "No, sir," he said after a pause. "I can't fault her. But there's nothing I can do about it, now, so it hardly matters."

Perhaps if he'd not been as distracted, he might not have started when the his general reached out and patted his armored shoulder with a large, clawed hand before he made to leave. "Wolffe, if you've learned nothing else from our time together, know this," he began as he stepped towards the door. "There is always hope."

As quietly as he'd entered the office, Plo Koon slipped out. After staring at the door for a few moments, Wolffe admitted defeat and went to bed, hoping that he was too tired to dream.

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_Thanks for reading! One more chapter to go. :)  
_


	11. Chapter Eleven

_Last chapter! I hope you've enjoyed the ride. :)_**  
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**Chapter Eleven**

_But now I've seen it through,_

_And now I know the truth:_

_That anything could happen._

~Ellie Goulding, "Anything Could Happen."

* * *

_Two days later..._

Today the Hanna City tapcaf was busy as fire and twice as hot, so Ava was _not_ beenpleased when her new employer – a burly Iridonian male named Gaal – told her that she had a holo-call, and that it was marked _urgent. _Standing between two tables of rowdy kids and their parents, recently come back from a bolo-ball game, she was balancing a stack of old dishes on a tray in one hand and a pot of caf in her other, but the news was so unexpected that she nearly dropped the lot of it.

Luckily, Gaal's quick reflexes prevented her from doing any such thing – this time – so she only gaped at her boss, who was regarding her with a faintly exasperated expression as he towered over his customers. "What? Me? Are you sure?"

"Well no, actually," Gaal said with a puzzled frown; after he steadied the tray in her hand, he thumbed towards the direction of his office door, where the tapcaf's holo-comm was located. "It was marked for a Zeltron named 'Ava,' but you're the only Zelly here, Mel."

Her blood froze in her veins. Jurma had found her, of course. There was no one else that knew her real name who could track her down all the way to Chandrila, where she'd landed. Ava felt her breath hitch, and thought she was going to drop the tray, after all.

Gaal's expression turned concerned as he guided her through the bustling tables to the back of the seating area, towards the kitchen. "You alright, Melusiné? No one's given you any trouble, have they?"

Kriff_, _she should have come up with a different, _fragging_ name, at least. "Yes, Gaal," she managed, smiling up at the dark-skinned Iridonian, who frowned at her words as they stepped through the kitchen door. She sighed and side-stepped to avoid a bus-droid, on its way to clean a newly-emptied table. "I mean, no, I'm fine. I'll just take a five-minute break, if that's okay?"

"Sure," he said kindly, though he reached for the caf-pot as he spoke. "Just set all that down before you drop it, alright? Force knows we don't need you to break any more dishes."

Ava felt her cheeks heat, but nodded and did as he requested, setting the dishes on an open stretch of counter in the kitchen before making her way into the hallway that led to the office; she wasn't the best server around – she dropped more than her share of plates – but she was a hard worker, and she was thankful that Gaal had given her the benefit of the doubt when he'd hired her a few weeks ago.

It had been sheer luck that had brought her to Chandrila; back on Nar Shaddaa, after the pawnshop, Ava's only thought had been to get off-world and out of Hutt space as soon as possible. She'd bought a ticket for Tanaab, but there'd been some sort of mix-up and she'd found herself on the Core World instead.

Not that she minded. Far from it, as Hanna City – Chandrila's capitol – was the most beautiful city she'd ever seen, and she'd thought she could be happy here for a while. Gaal was kind and patient, and had been willing to hire a disheveled Zeltron with no references to speak of, so she was determined to prove that his trust was not misplaced.

Serving wasn't a particularly exciting job but it didn't matter because she was free.

_Hopefully_.

The office was quiet, a pleasant break from the heat and clatter of the kitchen and the seating area, but Ava's nerves were thin at the thought that she might be on the run very soon. Once she'd taken a seat in the chair at the cluttered desk, she activated the ancient comm-station and scanned for the last message, all while considering the steps she'd have to take if Jurma had already found her; she'd managed to save up a little bit of money by now, not nearly enough, though-

The holographic image that bloomed before her was no one she recognized, which did not set her at ease. Jurma could have easily hired anyone to come find her. It was a male, she thought, though she wasn't familiar with his species; he wore modest robes and a breathing mask of some kind, and she could make out a metallic-looking cylinder on his belt.

His recorded voice was steady and even, a deep baritone that somehow set her at ease. _"Greetings, Ava. My name is Plo Koon, and I am a member of the Jedi Council. Before you begin to worry, you are not in any legal trouble; this is simply a request to speak with you regarding a potential place for you within Republic Intelligence."_

Ava's mouth fell open and she paused the transmission to get a better look at this Plo Koon. A Jedi? Her eyes flickered to the cylinder on his belt – a lightsaber. It must be. She checked the transmission's origin code, comparing it with others that Jurma had made her learn; sure enough, it was Republic. Moreover, she remembered Wolffe mentioning the name "Plo Koon," only he'd said this person was his commanding officer.

She hoped that this Jedi was being truthful about her not being in any legal trouble. That was the last thing she needed.

_But a place with Republic Intelligence? Me? _Shaking her head, Ava started the transmission again, and leaned forward in her chair, absorbing every word.

"_After speaking with a mutual acquaintance, I think that your bravery, intelligence and observational skills would be an asset to the Republic. Should you decide to consider this offer, send me a response, and I will send a representative to provide you with the details." _

There was a pause, then the Jedi spoke again, his voice a little wry. _"Perhaps you are wondering how I tracked you down."_

"Yeah, you could say that," she muttered.

The recording flickered, but it was due to the old tech rather than the original message. _"Republic Intelligence is adept at two things: keeping track of its belongings – such as any pieces of technology given to its agents – and employing beings who can observe and comprehend what they see. Finding __you was not a difficult matter, but if you'd like more details, I advise you to take advantage of this opportunity."_

The Jedi bowed. _"I hope to hear from you soon, Ava. May the Force be with you."_

A series of coordinates flashed before her, so she studied them, hoping to commit them to memory. When the recording ended, Ava's back hit the chair and she sat in silence for a few minutes, her head reeling with all of the new information.

_A job. For Republic Intelligence. Doing what, exactly? _

The kriffing ring; that must have been how he'd tracked her down, somehow. "Beings who can observe and comprehend what they see," she repeated, and her head shook again. It sounded like espionage work, but how in the stars could the Jedi have known-

Her heart tightened. _A mutual acquaintance. Wolffe_. She remembered him mentioning his commanding officer as being a "Plo Koon," so it was probably safe to say that this was the same person who'd comm'd her.

A strange, warm feeling coursed through her body at the notion that Wolffe had spoken so highly of her after she'd treated that poor medic like she did, and left him in the lurch. She regretted all of it, but she still knew it had been the right choice. Difficult, but right.

Now she wondered if another choice was being presented to her with this opportunity.

There were so many unknown factors, but she knew there was no way to learn about any of them unless she took the next step, so she gathered her calm, smoothed out her hair and her work apron, and activated the holo-comm again, entering the code that the Jedi had provided.

As she waited for the link to take hold, she felt it: a flare of hope within her heart at the idea that she might see _him_ again, and a stronger one at the thought that he might not hate her as much as she hated herself. Her Silver-and-Gold.

After what felt like hours, the channel opened, and her breath caught.

* * *

_The next evening..._

When Wolffe stepped through the doors of the Chandrilan tapcaf, he was assaulted by a host of sensations: the sharp, delicious scent of fresh-brewed caf; the mindless babble of the tapcaf's customers; the clatter of crashing ceramic as someone near the kitchen dropped what sounded like an entire tray of dishes.

He hoped the sound wasn't indicative of the service here.

Not that he'd even _wanted _to come on this errand, anyway, but the general had been oddly insistent about the entire thing. Had Wolffe been a more suspicious man, he might have thought that this was some misguided attempt to cheer him up, or at least break him out of his self-imposed solitude.

Anyway, his task was simple, which meant at least meant it should be brief: deliver an envelope of information to a Republic Intelligence agent who was working undercover in Hanna City. So he stood dutifully by the cheerful, hand-drawn sign that asked all customers to wait to be seated, and busied himself with trying to spot his contact.

There seemed to be a wide array of sentients here, but no one that jumped out at him as being an RI operative, though he assumed that was the point when one was trying to blend in. It was why he'd worn his civilian clothes, after all. Just because _he_ was abysmal at working undercover didn't mean everyone else was.

Ava, for example, would have done wonderfully at such a job.

Shaking the thought away, he turned his attention to the servers he could see bustling around the seating area, though none of them seemed to pay him any mind, and he felt a scowl coming on. Should he go ahead and seat himself, and just be done with it? Was it so kriffing hard to-

"I don't know where you came from," a familiar voice said from behind him, making Wolffe's heart kick into a higher gear. "But I'm so glad you're here."

Before he moved, he took a breath. "Me too," he heard himself saying, then he turned, and she was there, looking at him with that same nervous smile she'd worn when she'd first told him her real name. _Ava. _

She was real, she wasn't a dream or a memory; she was dressed as most of the civilians in this place were, along with some very sturdy-looking boots, the sight of which pleased him on some level.

Before he could ask her anything, she began to speak. "I'm sorry for how I left," she said, her voice reaching to him through the din of the tapcaf, though at this point they may as well have been the only two people on Chandrila's surface. "A part of me didn't want to. A part of me _wanted_ to stay with you, but I needed to make a choice. And I'm sorry about what I did to poor North, but I had to take advantage of the chance for freedom."

As she spoke, Wolffe studied her face; she looked the same as before, though he could see a tiny, healing cut on her lower lip from where Scota had struck at her. Her words were growing increasingly rapid, and he could practically feel earnestness and guilt radiating off of her.

"It was...it was the right choice for me at the time, and if I'd gone with you on your warship, I would have regretted it. You might not realize that now, but-"

"I don't care about any of that," he broke in, shaking his head. "It's fine; it doesn't matter. I know you had your reasons. Ava, I only have one regret."

Now that the stream of her words had halted, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open a little in surprise. "What?"

He reached his hand up to brush his thumb along her lips, skimming the healing cut. "I should have been there," he said quietly as the tapcaf continued to bustle all around them. "You wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had been there, and I'm sorry I wasn't."

"It's okay," she replied, blinking up at him as she pressed her hand to his. Warm. She was so warm, even through his glove. Then she smiled, a little coyly, and his heartbeat kicked up another notch. "It doesn't matter...I know you had your reasons."

The door opened, sending in a rush of cool air that lifted the edges of Ava's hair and the hem of her apron, so they took a few steps to the side to get out of the way of the door. As they did, he cast a glance around the crowded seating area, taking in the hordes of hungry customers and the large, Iridonian male who was refiling mugs of caf and shooting himself and Ava odd looks.

Wolffe looked back down at her and noted that her eyes had fallen on the envelope that he'd tucked under his arm. In addition to her clothing, she also wore an apron similar to the ones the other servers were wearing. "Do you really...work here?"

She gave him a broad, slightly abashed grin. "Not anymore." Before he could speak, she clarified. "That crashing sound when you came in? That was me...right before I got fired. It's okay. No hard feelings; I'm not a great server, and besides, I think I've got another job lined up, anyway."

With this, she reached for the envelope, sliding it out of his grasp. As she opened it and began to peer through the contents, Wolffe shifted his stance, glancing around the tapcaf again, thankful that no one aside from the Iridonian seemed to be paying them any mind. "General Plo said that was to go to a Republic agent..."

"He's right." Ava nodded and pulled out a sheet of flimsi; he could see the words Republic Intelligencein the letterhead across the top. "Well, sort of. I'm not an agent yet, but it's the next step. Your general is chock-full of good ideas."

Pleased beyond measure, he couldn't help but smile at her as he watched her reading the letter. "You're going to blow them all out of the kriffing water, Ava."

She laughed, and there was no better sound. "That's my hope."

When she looked up at him again, he saw the familiar fire in her eyes, along with the cool intelligence he'd missed more than he'd expected. "Nothing's certain, yet, but from the sound of it, I'll have the opportunity to go where I want, when I want, a lot of the time." She paused, and gave him a meaningful look. "I could stop by and see this warship of yours, sometime. If you wanted me to."

Now he was grinning like a damn fool, but he didn't give a kriff. "Nothing would please me more."

Ava's cheeks were a deep rose; he thought if he could feel her heart it would be racing. Certainly his own was. Her voice sounded breathless again. "We can make it work."

"Yes," he said, then he reached for her because he couldn't stand to be so close and not be touching, anymore.

Wolffe slid one hand around the back of Ava's head and used the other to pull her body close to his in a firm embrace; he didn't sweep her off of the ground, but he held her, completely and totally, and kissed her as hard as he could.

Nothing in his life had ever been as right as when she held him close, too, and kissed him back.

_The End_

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_Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! :)_


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